In From the Cold
by maleshka
Summary: Tony's first few days at NCIS are anything but easy; there are fifty rules and FLETC training and new faces and above all, one Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs to contend with. Tony's early days on team Gibbs.
1. Chapter 1

_**Hello once again. Thanks to everyone who took the time to read and review 'Baltimore' and here is the requested sequel about Tony's early days at NCIS while he earns his 'Special Agent' status. Tony will come across several of Gibbs' rules in this story and it will hopefully see the two eventually working as the team that we see on NCIS.**_

_**To any new readers, it isn't necessary to read 'Baltimore' first although there will be the odd reference to people and circumstances brought up in that story.**_

_**A thunderstorm managed to fry my internet router, (it literally made a crackling sound) so I was without access until BT sent out not only an engineer to tell me that the box was completely useless, but for them to send out a new hub, too. After all that, I can't remember if I've replied to everyone who took the time to message/review, so if you have duplicates, feel free to ignore it and if you haven't got a reply at all, I'm very sorry!**_

_**Ok, first chapter is an introduction to both Tony's and Gibbs' circumstances following the move to NCIS; Tony goes to FLETC and Gibbs tries to figure out his latest Agent.**_

* * *

><p>Tony looked up at the entrance to the building with a certain degree of trepidation. FLETC was alive with activity; people seemed to be coming and going from every direction with speed and purpose.<p>

He caught snippets of conversations that did nothing to allay his fears; there seemed to be so much talk of procedure and technological requirements. There was talk of tests and reading and assignments; it sounded far too much like school for his liking.

Tony was no idiot, but he had never much enjoyed academia.

Contrary to popular belief, he _did_ read but he hated dissecting books to look for hidden meanings; he just wanted to enjoy a good story, not look for all the Gothic and Romantic connotations. Cinema usually managed to bypass all those pointless debates and just got on with telling a good story with the help of actors and CGI and surround sound.

His Phys. Ed. degree had focused primarily on human anatomy, diet and the like; great for knowing about the physical stresses of certain exercises and the benefits of one food type over another.

However, it seemed as though everyone he had met so far had more academic degrees in areas such as chemical engineering or information technology. There were some who had more practical and applicable degrees, such as criminal law or criminal psychology.

He knew that he was a good cop; it was one of the few things that he held no real doubts over. However, all the requirements, all the demands of the job at NCIS were making him doubt whether he had the academic requirements and the capability to see Gibbs' offer through to the end.

Tony had never been ashamed of his Phys. Ed. Major until he had started the transition from Homicide Detective to NCIS Special Agent.

It no longer felt like it was enough.

His first two days in DC had consisted mainly of filling in various bits of paperwork and dealing with more bureaucratic crap than he was used to; he had spent so much time in the Human Resources Department that he had hardly seen anyone, even Gibbs.

He had been dismayed to learn that not only was he expected to go to courses at FLETC, but that he also had to undergo a psychological review; he knew that it made logical sense for NCIS to perform such a task on their field agents, but Tony had a strong dislike for anyone trying to poke around in his head.

He had long since created a front to place between him and the rest of the world and he preferred it that way.

He had a couple of days until that particular pleasure but he was expected to start his courses before that; Gibbs had signed him up at the earliest possibility. Tony supposed that he should be grateful for the faith that the speed suggested Gibbs had in him, although he was finding that everything was moving just a little quicker than he might have liked.

Tony was used to the more sedate speed that most Police Departments seemed to run at; paperwork trickled in from every direction, with the Brass being just as behind on the bureaucracy that ran their lives as the men and women who worked patrol.

He was used to waiting a couple of weeks before he had a working forensic report on his desk; he had heard Gibbs demand one from Abby within hours of delivering the evidence to her laboratory.

He felt as though his life in DC was speeding past him in a hazy blur and he'd only been there two days.

"Coming or going?" asked an amused voice from behind him.

Tony turned to see a pretty woman of similar age eyeing the future agent with interest.

"Not sure," Tony grinned a little sheepishly.

"My first day, I ended up in the wrong class on the wrong side of the facility; walked into a self-defence class by mistake and I ended up being roped into it and being used as the practise dummy," she let out a small laugh. "Once you've been here a couple of days you'll find your way around easily enough."

"Good to know," Tony nodded. "Don't suppose you know the way to room WB 214, do you? I wouldn't want to be used as a human punch-bag on my first day," he offered with a wry grin.

"No, they learn to fight pretty dirty in those classes," she agreed sagely. "WB means the Wright Building, it's the one by the small coffee booth over there," he pointed to Tony's right. "And 214 is the 14th room on the 2nd floor; up the main staircase and turn left."

"That's great, thanks," Tony offered his hand and a mega-watt grin. "I'm Tony," he greeted the woman.

"Paula Cassidy," she shook his hand with a smile. "Who are you here with?"

"All by myself," Tony pulled his best kicked puppy expression, earning himself an eye-roll.

"Which agency?" Paula asked dryly with an amused quirk of her eyebrow.

"Oh," Tony had to stop the _'BPD'_ that almost sprang forth and think and remember that he now had to give a different answer. "Erm…NCIS, DC headquarters," he finally managed.

"You had to think about that," Paula pointed out with amusement.

"It's kind of a recent transition," Tony spoke up, his tone only slightly defensive.

"I'm with NCIS too; maybe I'll see you back in DC," she offered. "Whose team are you on?"

"Agent Gibbs," Tony replied, taking note of the way the woman had to fight to keep her eyebrows from disappearing into her hair.

_So _this_ was the guy Gibbs had brought in from Baltimore_, Paula thought to herself with surprise. She had expected someone…well…someone _not_ like the man in front of her; someone more severe and imposing, someone who looked as though they had seen more than a few years of service, someone that looked every bit as good as she would have expected given that Gibbs had reportedly fought for the man's transfer.

Tony looked too well-polished and too friendly and open to survive for very long serving on Agent Gibbs' team; maybe he would surprise them all.

"Well…good luck with that, Tony," she smiled before heading past him, stopping short of the doorway. "You know, the last Agent he had, Nixon, he was fresh out of FLETC and transferred TAD to Gibbs' team from another one; _he_ didn't last too long."

"Thanks for the reassurance," Tony smiled thinly, not entirely sure if Cassidy was insulting him or Gibbs. "But I'm not Nixon."

"No," Paula agreed, giving him an appreciative once over. "No, you're definitely not. Maybe I'll see you around, Tony."

Tony certainly hoped so; he'd always liked women with a bit of fire in them. He wasn't sure what to make of her comment about Gibbs' team, though; everyone at NCIS already seemed to have formed an opinion on him based entirely on the fact that he was a former Baltimore cop and that _Gibbs_ had been the one who had pushed for the transfer.

Clearly Gibbs had his own reputation within NCIS that was a rather contentious one.

He took a deep breath and headed into the Wright Building, taking the stairs up to the second floor, pausing momentarily outside of the room. _Procedure, that's always a barrel of laughs_, he thought wryly to himself.

* * *

><p>Gibbs could not help but continually glance at the empty desks that surrounded him. Nixon was thankfully gone for good and Blackadder was on temporary loan to the FBI to work an old counter-terrorism case of hers that had cropped up.<p>

That left just Gibbs and DiNozzo.

Morrow had allowed Gibbs two weeks off main rotation within the MCRT to help get the younger man through the basics at FLETC and to familiarise the younger man with NCIS protocol and the ever-flowing paperwork demands.

It was a long, slow and incredibly boring process that Gibbs had been through more times than he would have liked.

Now DiNozzo was at FLETC attending his first class and Gibbs was more than bored with looking through cold cases; only his unfailing loyalty to the Marine Corps kept him from wishing for a case that would involve a freshly murdered sailor or at the very least, one in trouble.

He was sure that, courses aside, DiNozzo would not need anywhere near the full two weeks to assimilate himself into the Major Crimes Unit at NCIS; the younger man already had six years of law enforcement under his belt and all the experience that went along with that time.

Using all the channels available to him, both official and otherwise, he had done more digging into DiNozzo's background and his personnel files.

The younger man had started off as any other cop; walking a beat. It seemed as though his time in Peoria had been without any major incidents and his Captain was full of praise for the man's keen eye and consistent dedication to the job. During his time there, DiNozzo interacted with a couple of different departments, primarily Traffic and Vice.

He'd also done his fair share of leg work; the usual hazing that seemed to exist within every branch of law enforcement ensured that he went dumpster-diving after potential evidence, carried out door-to-door enquiries and wasted hours leafing through mounds of paper-trails searching for possible leads.

DiNozzo had already stressed the point that he did not sign on with Gibbs to be treated like some rookie; he was finished with the hazing and felt that he had more than proved himself capable.

Gibbs agreed and knew that he risked losing DiNozzo if he tried to treat him like the rest of the probies that had passed through his care. That didn't mean that he was going to allow the younger man to get away without doing _some_ of the dirtier work; after all, Gibbs himself had done more than enough dumpster-diving to last a lifetime and, thankfully, he had seniority.

The information he got from DiNozzo's files during his time in Philadelphia was a little more vague; thankfully, both Tony and Fornell had helped to bridge some of those gaps. However, he knew that he still did not have all of the information he wanted.

DiNozzo's personnel files from Peoria read like they were describing their golden boy; in Philadelphia the tone changed quite drastically.

There were plenty of commendations, not least the one that raised his status to that of a Detective, but there were numerous reprimands and several complaints. Only one of those complaints came from a civilian; Gibbs had actually laughed out loud when he discovered the man's profession: lawyer. It looked as though Tony would have no problem sticking to Rule Thirteen.

The rest of the complaints had been in-house and that worried Gibbs slightly.

He'd worked alongside the man without too many problems and, above all, they'd closed the case; Gibbs also knew how highly esteemed DiNozzo was by his former partner, the respectable Sam Jacobs.

However, even in the short time that Gibbs had spent at Baltimore's 22nd Precinct, he had picked up on more than a little hostility aimed at DiNozzo. Abby had initially been confused at how much respect and affection the lab rats held for the man, but that had clearly not been the case with the rest of the personnel in the Precinct.

There was a formal reprimand in DiNozzo's file about violence against another cop; the kid didn't seem the type to lose his temper in such a violent fashion but apparently the possibility existed. Given the lack of a suspension, clearly even the Brass thought that DiNozzo had a good reason for his outburst; but still, NCIS was unlikely to be as understanding should a similar incident occur.

Gibbs couldn't help but wonder what must have happened to ruffle DiNozzo's feathers and produce a violent outburst from the normally relaxed and affable young man.

The other reprimands from his time in Philadelphia seemed to refer to deviations from the SOP; clearly these deviations hadn't been so complete as to risk throwing a case, but enough to irritate the Brass.

That DiNozzo was not one to blindly follow the rulebook indicated that he would probably find a good home on Gibbs' team, but the Senior Agent was a little unsure as to whether or not he and DiNozzo would go to the same lengths to ensure a guilty man saw the inside of a jail cell.

DiNozzo was damn good at his job and it was obvious that he was prepared to bend the rulebook slightly to get the job done, but Gibbs was also convinced that the younger man would always try to solve his cases from _within_ the law and act only as a cop, never as judge, jury and executioner.

He wondered if DiNozzo would stick around NCIS if he knew the truth about his new Boss and Pedro Hernandez all those years ago in Mexico, or if the kid would be the one to read him his Miranda Rights.

Gibbs wasn't prepared to put money on it just yet.

Jacobs had been a good partner for the kid during a rough time in his life and DiNozzo had repaid that loyalty and then some; so much so, in fact, that before the shooting DiNozzo had considered both Jacobs and Baltimore's Homicide Department to be permanent fixtures in his life, despite all the obstacles he faced by staying in a relatively hostile work environment.

If Gibbs could earn the sort of loyalty that he had seen exist between DiNozzo and Jacobs then he would be a happy man. Not since his days in the Corps had he felt that sort of brotherhood, that complete and unquestionable faith in the man at your back.

Franks had done a lot for Gibbs and, despite the man's many imperfections, the Senior Agent wouldn't hesitate to help Mike out in any way he could, no questions asked. Even though Gibbs had always been lumbered with _someone_ to work with, he sometimes felt as though he had been working solo ever since Franks retired.

In Baltimore, alongside DiNozzo and Jacobs, Gibbs had felt the familiar feelings of brotherhood and camaraderie and trust stirring within. He knew that he and DiNozzo would make a good team, but Gibbs was sure that both men would get more out of the working relationship than a high case-closure rate.

_If_ he could keep the idiot alive long enough!

DiNozzo's personnel records from Baltimore were generally of a more positive trend, _except_ Gibbs saw clear evidence of the younger man's reckless streak. Sam Jacobs had warned Gibbs that he would need to keep a careful eye on the young man and try to stop him from diving head first into the closest spot of trouble he could find; judging by the medical notations in DiNozzo's file, it was clear that Jacobs _hadn't_ been exaggerating.

Gibbs didn't really know what he could do to curtail that particular trait; head-slaps and a set of rules could only take you so far. He knew, however, that it he wanted the younger man to stick around for more than two years then he was going to have to do his best; he was sure that DiNozzo would be worth the extra effort.

"Here you are, Jethro," Ducky interrupted his musings as he placed a file on the Senior Agent's desk. "I've reviewed the autopsy notes and I'm afraid I could find nothing to suggest that I may have missed something the first time around."

Gibbs knew he was lucky with Ducky's attitude; many M.E.'s would have taken exception at the implication that they had missed an initial but vital piece of information pertaining to a closed case. Ducky had simply agreed to dig out his old notes and see if he had missed anything; he suffered no hit to his ego or any doubts over his abilities

"Thanks, Duck, it was worth a shot," Gibbs sighed as he placed Ducky's file on top of all the other ones he had reviewed so far, unsuccessful in his attempts to find a possible lead.

"Ah, I see you have once again decided to examine young Anthony's personnel file; what is it you are looking for, Jethro, if I may be so bold?" Ducky asked with a slight frown as he noticed just how creased the corners of the file had become due, no doubt, to Gibbs leafing through it so often in such a short amount of time.

As the newcomer had spent so much time trawling through paperwork in the HR Department, Ducky had not had a great deal of time to talk to Mr. DiNozzo, but having met the man in Baltimore the M.E. was inclined to believe that Jethro's continual examination of the young man's file would do nothing to appease Anthony's obvious insecurities.

"I don't know, Duck," Gibbs shook his head, and he really didn't; he had read the files before offering DiNozzo a job and had done so many times since. He knew all the information in them and had digested them and analysed them and he had come no closer to figuring out what it was he was searching for, exactly.

What he _did_ know was that he felt DiNozzo's personnel files were wholly inadequate in explaining the man; if people came with instruction manuals, Gibbs was pretty sure that DiNozzo's would be one of the few he would actually take the time to read through. The man had only been in DC for a couple of days and already he had shown a multitude of faces.

On paper, DiNozzo appeared pretty straightforward; he was an only child from a wealthy New York family and he went to one of the East Coast's best boarding schools. He was an intelligent and athletic young boy with a natural charm and charisma that would have taken him into any school clique in which he wanted to belong.

From that, you would expect a happy childhood with no real issues.

But…

Gibbs knew more than that because he had asked Abby to dig into the younger man's life and she had done so with far more fervour that any Police Department could ever hope to achieve.

After the death of his mother, Tony's life seemed to take a pretty drastic change; Rhode Island Military Academy was normally a last resort for wealthy parents unable or unwilling to control their wayward children.

Gibbs knew that DiNozzo had a mischievous streak but he could not imagine him as a young child doing anything worthy of being sent away to Military Academy; DiNozzo's innuendos and pranks were not malicious in nature and he had already displayed good control over his temper, no matter who riled him up.

So the younger man's childhood was not as happy as one might have expected it to be, but that still left a lot of unanswered questions about the man's seemingly limitless personalities.

Questions that remained largely unanswered even after sifting through his life at Ohio State and after the Police Academy.

The personnel files from Tony's time on the Force were illuminating in all sorts of ways, but Gibbs felt that there was always something just beyond his grasp; trying to come up with an answer that was even remotely satisfying was like trying to grab a hold of smoke.

"Jethro, for as long as I have known you, you have made continuous references to trusting your gut; perhaps it would be wise to do the same in this instance," Ducky suggested, his tone only mildly disapproving.

Gibbs looked up at his old friend and caught the pointed look towards DiNozzo's now slightly ragged personnel files. He knew what Ducky was hinting at, as he too had considered DiNozzo's reaction if he ever found out just how many times his new Boss had poured over those scraps of paper looking for some indefinable thing.

"Maybe you're right," Gibbs sighed heavily as he closed the file; he would undoubtedly have to try and resist opening it again simply for the sake of it, but he knew all the information it contained and he wondered just how much time he would spend trying to figure DiNozzo out, how long it would take him to come to a satisfactory conclusion.

"He _is_ an intriguing young man," Ducky mentioned as a concession, the stress on _'intriguing'_ could have been taken to mean something either positive or negative. "I believe, however, that he will make a fine addition to your team, Jethro."

Of course, Ducky was _not_ going to mention his reasoning for that belief; he didn't think Gibbs would appreciate hearing it.

From the first time that Ducky had observed the two working alongside each other in Baltimore, he had noticed the effect it had on his old friend. Jethro was reticent by nature whereas Anthony seemed to be far more gregarious; the younger man might be discreet about his genuine emotions but he was quick to try and produce a response from everyone he came across, and that response could come in any form so long as there _was_ a reaction.

Whereas Jethro would glare and frown and remain silent in his approach, Tony appeared to be someone who would charge onwards at full speed, ready to disarm with a smile and destabilise someone with a flawless dual act of idiocy and intelligence.

There were several Yin and Yang components to the ways in which they operated, and that sort of balance was something that Gibbs had been without for far too long, and something that his old friend desperately needed.

It was interesting to see the way the two men, so very different and yet so very similar, played off each other; their clashing personalities complimented each other in the field and provided plenty of amusement for those listening in. Gibbs' growling at Nixon had been full of animosity and contained promises of actual grievous bodily harm in the near future, whereas when they were directed at DiNozzo the tone was more like that of a long-suffering friend or a teacher at his wits end with an unruly child.

That DiNozzo could get the irascible Senior Agent to crack a smile meant more to the M.E. than he could put into words.

However, it was the similarities that made _Ducky_ secretly smile; there was the way they both guarded their emotions, because no matter how different the methods may be the intent was still perfectly clear. They were both stubborn beyond belief and Ducky was shocked to hear Jethro talk of young Anthony's reckless streak with such venom and _not_ realise the hypocrisy of such a speech coming from _him_ of all people.

"I should get going," Gibbs said as he stood up, stuffing DiNozzo's file into one of his drawers. "Need to pick DiNozzo up from the training centre."

"Ah yes," Ducky nodded as he realised the time. "Young Anthony is still not prepared to risk his beloved car, I take it?"

"Something like that," Gibbs snorted. DiNozzo had initially asked Gibbs to come and pick him up from Baltimore rather than drive down himself because the kid had not yet fully recovered from his injuries; driving and carrying around all of his earthly belongings was not going to do him any good, no matter how few things he actually seemed to own.

Jacobs had warned Gibbs that dealing with a sick or injured DiNozzo carried with it a whole host of problems; apparently the younger man did not understand the idea of resting.

It seemed as though it was going to be through DiNozzo's car that Gibbs would have the best shot at getting the man to behave when circumstances required it; the damn kid could be bleeding out all over the floor and he would probably say he was fine, so long as the blood wasn't staining the interior of his precious car, of course!

DiNozzo was likely to want to go back to Baltimore soon and retrieve his cherished car, but until that time Gibbs didn't actually mind acting as chauffeur, even with DiNozzo fidgeting and fiddling with the radio dials. It gave the two men a chance to talk, and for the first time in a long time Gibbs had found someone he didn't mind talking to about the little things in life: football and cars and stories about past cases.

"See you later, Duck," Gibbs nodded to his old friend as he headed towards the elevator.

"Good night, Jethro," Ducky replied, trying to recall the last time Gibbs had worked a nine-to-five day.

If nothing else, DiNozzo's probationary period at NCIS was certainly going to be interesting. Of course, Ducky hoped that the young man's stay would extend _beyond_ the trial period; he had added his own money to the betting pool the office had running and he hoped that in ten years, he would see the two men still working together.

Tony already had Gibbs' respect and he had no doubt that trust and loyalty would follow; after that, all that remained was for DiNozzo to realise he had a home in DC.

* * *

><p>"Everything go ok?" Gibbs asked, noting the way his newest addition to the team sagged into the passenger seat with more than a little relief.<p>

"It felt a little bit too much like school," Tony answered carefully, feeling almost as though he were actually an errant child being asked about his first day of school by an anxious parent.

Gibbs nodded his agreement; he remembered when he had started his first course at FLETC and had thought exactly the same thing. It had been frustrating for the former Gunnery Sergeant to waste time on a gun range being told how to shoot and maintain a weapon and the more procedural based classes had included many a long and arduous slog through the basics of criminal law and civil rights.

Gibbs passed the whole lot with flying colours, as he had no doubt DiNozzo would do, but he had not enjoyed much of his time at FLETC. He liked going out into the field and questioning people and walking around the crime scene simply because it felt like he was _doing_ something; the constant activity kept him sane while the long, sedentary afternoons hunched over file-laden desks had numbed his soul past the point of boredom many a time over.

Every now and again, Morrow would insist that Gibbs take another course; sometimes they could be attended at NCIS and sometimes he had to journey out to FLETC in Virginia. He had never enjoyed any of the enforced classes and he thought that the sexual harassment seminars in particular were beyond a joke.

"Yeah," Gibbs agreed out loud with a sigh of his own. "The days can feel pretty long," he said as he supressed the wince that he could feel pulling at him beneath the surface of his stoic façade as he remembered that he was due for another seminar soon.

Tony was exhausted; his day at FLETC had been his first real full day of activity since the shooting and his body did not appreciate suddenly being asked to _do_ something; he was thankful that he had stopped taking the painkillers otherwise he would certainly have fallen asleep in one of his classes.

Having to go over things that he had already studied at the Police Academy was more than frustrating, it was downright annoying. He couldn't just quietly nod off at the back of the classroom in case he missed one of the subtle nuances that differed federal law from state; at the same time, those differences were so rarely relevant for his profession.

The rest of the ride passed by silently and, thanks to Gibbs driving, quickly; even so, Tony struggled to keep his eyes open during the rest of the journey.

"Tony," Gibbs asked softly, his voice unable to mask his concern, making the younger man convinced that Gibbs had called his name more than once. He rubbed at his eyes and tried his hardest to focus on the Senior Agent.

"Yep, I'm back," Tony smiled, waving off the concern. He knew that he hadn't fallen asleep but he had been lost in his thoughts, once again questioning his ability to see Gibbs' job offer though to the end.

"Come on, there are a couple of steaks and some beers inside with our names on them," Gibbs gestured towards his home. He didn't even need to see the exhaustion in his eyes to know that DiNozzo needed them, and after a full day of cold cases, Gibbs was more than ready to tuck into a steak dinner.

As Gibbs set about the kitchen preparing dinner, Tony wandered towards the bathroom for a quick, refreshing shower; he thought that face-planting into his steak was _not_ the way to impress his new boss.

Living with Gibbs until he found a flat had initially been a little awkward, but nowhere near as awkward as he might have imagined it would be; the man seemed to be doing what he could to make sure that Tony didn't overtax himself and had taken the time to find him a local physiotherapist with the help of Doctor Mallard. Tony hadn't even been allowed to cook him a meal or wash the dishes by way of recompense; in fact, any time words of thanks came forth Gibbs swiftly changed the subject.

Once he knew the man a little better, maybe then he'd be able to repay his kindness with something he would actually like; despite his gregarious nature he could do understated very well.

He left his shower feeling a little more alert and ready to face any inquiries into his long and arduous day. He scooped up a cold beer from the fridge and went into the living room where Gibbs was sipping on his own beer and looking at Tony's targets from his course at the range.

"A smiley face…really?" Gibbs asked with a hint of incredulity, although his blue eyes glistened with amusement.

He had found Tony's shooting target rolled up by his bag in the living room and couldn't help but take a look; there were only four targets and two of them contained a neat centre-mass grouping in both the heart and the head that spoke of fine accuracy and control. The other target had shots well-aimed at the limbs that spoke of an intent to wound, not kill; whereas the final target showed that Tony had been just as bored by his lesson on the range as Gibbs had been all those years ago.

"I was bored," Tony shrugged, completely unrepentant for the clichéd groupings in his shooting target, complete with two eyes, a nose and a smiley face.

He had never had a problem with shooting; right from his first time on a gun range, he had been praised for both his speed and accuracy. He generally shot what he was aiming at and he usually managed to hit where he had intended; a kill shot, to him, was just as easy as a wounding shot. Sam had helped work on Tony's natural skill and helped to mould him into an even more efficient shot.

"I don't need to be taught how to shoot; if after six years on the Force I _still_ can't shoot, then frankly I shouldn't be allowed a gun. Mind you, some of the people there should _never_ be allowed to holster a side-arm, in this life _or_ the next!" Tony emphasised with a wince as he thought of some of the idiotic things some of the first timers had done at the range.

"That bad?" Gibbs asked, already aware of the answer. He had felt the same about Nixon; unfortunately he had only discovered Nixon's sub-standard shooting abilities when they were both in the field and Gibbs had been in just as much danger of catching a bullet from his own Agent as he had been from the trained Marine shooting at them.

It was a mistake the Gibbs knew he would never make again; he would _never_ let an Agent under his command go into the field without his own version of training first, no matter who had initially taught them.

"One of them got a bullet stuck in the barrel, and instead of trying to clear it out sensibly, he thought he'd try and move it with another bullet; he's damn lucky the thing didn't blow up in his face. And there was one negligent discharge incident too many as far as my heart rate was concerned," Tony subconsciously rubbed a hand over his heart as he remembered the feel of adrenaline thumping through his veins as a bullet ricocheted unnervingly close by.

"And you thought you'd show them how it was done?" Gibbs asked as he waved Tony's smiling target.

"I just wanted to make sure that I've recovered full mobility and dexterity in my upper body; I have," Tony shrugged with his trademark mega-watt grin. "And it's been a while since I've been allowed to have a little fun on the gun range."

"Do you go a lot?" Gibbs inquired curiously. Judging from the targets, DiNozzo had fine enough control with his sidearm and he had seen the man shoot to know that live targets didn't faze him, but other than that Gibbs knew very little about the man's shooting style.

"Sam used to take me to the Precinct's gun range after a bad case, work out some of those issues," Tony offered with a wry, self-deprecating grin as he thought about how his partner used to insist on guns and paper targets rather than fists and a brick wall.

"Of course, him being an ex-Ranger and everything, my Academy training wasn't deemed good enough; he got me to shoot left-handed, and he would make me do it standing up, sitting down, kneeling, and even lying down. One time, he even covered one eye so that my depth perception and everything was completely messed up.

"It was just messing around, really," Tony's smile held a nostalgic edge to it as he recalled all the things his former partner used to do to help him out after a bad day. "When it came down to it he trusted me to watch his six, but I think he just liked teaching me that stuff. Am I going to have to learn to shoot like a Marine, now?" Tony asked teasingly, erasing his previous melancholy so quickly and completely that Gibbs had to ask himself whether or not it had ever really been there.

"We'll get down to the range soon enough; I've got a few teaching methods of my own," Gibbs' smile was anything but nice.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Ok, so the first chapter is out of the way; let me know what you think. <strong>_

_**And for those of you who need it…**_

_**FLETC – It is the Federal Law Enforcement Training Centre.**_

_**Rule Thirteen – Never, **_**ever**_** involve lawyers.**_

_**SOP – Standard Operating Procedure.**_

_**Miranda Rights – it is what you will hear police say as they arrest someone: 'you have the right to remain silent…etc.'**_

_**Negligent Discharge – when someone fires off a shot without meaning to; in the military it can be a disciplinary offence, as it is assumed that a soldier is always in control of his/her weapon.**_

_**I will **_**not**_** be writing a romance fic between Tony and Paula Cassidy, but we all know that **_**something**_** happened between them, and this chapter is simply hinting that it happened after he joined NCIS but before the series started.**_

_**Next up - Tony works his first cold case with Gibbs and gets a little too emotionally invested; Gibbs does what he can to reel the younger man back in and teach him yet another of his rules.**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Thanks to everyone who took the time to message/review and to those I couldn't reply to; it is much appreciated.**_

_**Sorry this took a little longer to get out than I had originally planned. Real life has a way of kicking you down when you least feel up to dealing with it. Had a very sad week; had to take my dog to the vet and make that awful decision to have her put down, so I didn't feel much like writing after that.**_

_**About two hours after I posted the first chapter, there was a blackout; it only lasted about two seconds, but apparently that was enough to stop the **_**new**_** router from working. I could not see the funny side! However, it is now all fixed (touch wood) and this time BT has given me everything I need, so there **_**should**_** be no more problems with uploading.**_

_**Tony and Gibbs work a cold case and Gibbs needs a swift lecture from Ducky to help him understand his latest acquisition. He lays down another of his rules. No action in this chapter, but lots of introspection; they're both still trying to understand each other.**_

* * *

><p>Tony had woken up early; he was excited that for the first time since starting his new job, he would finally have a day without the long drive to FLETC and, better yet, without any seminars.<p>

Gibbs had said that he wanted to see how Tony worked a case that was completely new to him…Tony's _first_ NCIS case. He may not have received his Special Agent status yet, but if a cold case got him out of class and into the field…well, that was fine with him.

He had never much liked working cold cases; they evoked a special kind of depression. It was rare to work a cold case and find a new and successful lead; knowing that someone out there had gotten away with murder, sometimes quite literally, never sat well with a man who believed in justice for all.

He had been so busy with seminars and assessments and readings that he had not managed to find any free time for himself; if ever he _did_ have a couple of hours to spare, he was in the hospital receiving his final few sessions of physiotherapy.

All that meant he _still_ had not found the time to go apartment hunting.

He promised himself that at the weekend he would make time; he couldn't stay in his boss' spare room for the rest of his time at NCIS, no matter how short _or_ long that time may be.

Gibbs had been a good and gracious host, making sure Tony was comfortable without making a big deal about it all. However, it was clear the man liked his solitary moments. The man had often disappeared down into the basement and could spend hours down there working away on his boat before resurfacing.

Tony had yet to feel as comfortable or as brave as he had that first day to try and intrude on that particular sanctuary.

"Are you off apartment hunting with Abby this weekend?" Gibbs asked as he entered the kitchen, trying hard not to roll his eyes at the fact that DiNozzo was in his running gear while suffering the after-effects of catching a bullet _and_ the invasive surgery required to remove it.

"Yeah, apparently I have no idea about what is classified as _'hinky' _and I look like I need all the help I can get," Tony replied dryly as he thought of Abby's instructions on what an apartment should be. "All of this coming from a woman who, quite literally, has a coffin in her lounge."

Gibbs nodded, secretly glad that Abby had appointed herself head of the apartment hunting committee; he wasn't entirely sure that DiNozzo would go for something that the Senior Agent would term as _'suitable'_ either.

"You should get ready; we need to get going," Gibbs gestured towards the other man's slightly sweaty clothes.

"Yeah," Tony nodded as he headed up the stairs. "I'll make sure the shower is a quick one then we can get going. I get to work an actual case!"

The last statement was clearly said more to himself than to his new Boss, but Gibbs couldn't help but smile at the enthusiasm he heard there. He couldn't blame DiNozzo; he much preferred working a case, even a cold one, than dealing with the theory behind it all. Thankfully his long days at FLETC had been over for years and he was now only stuck with the occasional seminar.

Tony had seemed to become despondent over the past few days, so much so that Gibbs had considered ringing up the kid's former partner, Sam Jacobs, for a few words of advice.

He knew Tony was not enjoying much in the way of his classes at FLETC; having been an active cop for over six years Tony was miles ahead of most of his classmates when it came to his understanding of law and procedure.

Unfortunately, Morrow had made Tony's admission into the ranks of NCIS reliant upon his attendance of those classes. The Director was clearly worried about hiring an unknown entity and as far as he was concerned the classes and the feedback from them were allowing Morrow to see whether or not he had made an astute decision in allowing Gibbs free rein over his own team.

Gibbs wondered if Tony was aware of just how many of his instructors were reporting back to the Director about his progress.

"Ok, let's go," Tony came down the stairs in another smart suit ready to face the day.

Gibbs tried to hide a sigh.

It seemed as though DiNozzo was still not comfortable enough to relax his wardrobe. He had learnt early on that DiNozzo's clothes almost acted as an extension to the man's inner emotions.

DiNozzo had worn jeans and a hoodie in Baltimore around his old partner, comfortable and confident enough to know that Sam would have his back no matter what, both on the job and off; his fellow cops may not have always liked him but most could not deny his competency.

In DC it was an entirely different story.

Gibbs knew that the younger man was being judged more by the fact that _he_ had personally requested the transfer, looking straight to Morrow for a green light; that alone had got the scuttlebutt started. There were so many bits and pieces of information circling the MCRT bullpen about one Anthony DiNozzo; some were true, some were clearly full of crap and others were ambiguous enough that they started up a whole other line of rumours.

With all of that, people were not just questioning Gibbs' decision, they were doubting Tony's abilities; the effects were obvious.

Tony wore his clean and crisp designer suits like armour; a chainmail made up entirely of expensive fabrics and famous labels designed to keep people focused on the image projected and not the man wearing them. Yet another layer of protection the young man seemed intent on keeping between himself and the world.

"Come on, DiNozzo," Gibbs said gruffly as he motioned for the man to get out to the car. One thing he had quickly understood about his new charge was that the man did not want to be molly-coddled; he may have brought out the kicked puppy routine every now and then, but he tended to be even _more_ suspicious if Gibbs started trying to be nice.

"Coming, Boss," Tony said as he darted past the older man and headed to the car. With what he hoped would prove to be a busy day ahead of him, he didn't want to be on the wrong side of the Senior Agent before they'd even pulled up to the Navy Yard.

* * *

><p>Gibbs had left Tony to review the case file while he was in with the Director; Tony really hoped that visit was nothing to do with him!<p>

So far, he could find no real evidence of foul play; a young Petty Officer, Jose Ramirez, had been reported as UA after he failed to report for duty. A large pile of household bills on his door mat suggested that he had not been home for months before his tour of duty.

No one had reported him missing.

That alone had caught Tony's attention and he had flipped through the files to try and find out why there was no one in Ramirez's life who noticed that he had been missing for almost three months before he was declared missing.

The only living family member on file was an absent father, his mother having died of cancer when he was still in his teens. His older brother had died on his first tour of duty with the US Army.

Judging from old phone bills, there appeared to be very few out-going personal calls and his post contained nothing but junk-mail and utilities bills.

All in all, it looked as though Ramirez led a pretty solitary life.

Tony wondered who would come looking for him if he went missing.

He had no family to speak of; an estranged father who seemed to want very little to do with him while the rest of the family were little more than strangers to him. He had a few frat buddies from college that he kept in touch with, but they met up so infrequently due to conflicting work schedules that he didn't always know where they were, either.

In fact, until he went to Baltimore, Tony would have been quite convinced that he could easily have met the same fate as Ramirez. Before Baltimore, he'd worked with a few people that he had both liked and trusted, but those relationships had always stayed in the workplace.

Sam Jacobs changed all of that.

Sam had been gruff and caustic when they first met, letting Tony know that he wasn't going to take any crap from his new partner; he still couldn't say why, but Tony had felt it was beyond important to impress Sam with his abilities.

Thankfully, he had quickly managed that.

Once Sam knew that the rumours surrounding him had no basis, and saw with his own eyes that Tony was not just able, but _willing_ to pull his own weight, things started to change. After that had been established, Sam had taken the young Detective under his wing and taken great care in teaching Tony all he could with patience and diligence.

Sam had done his best to ensure that the ridiculous hazing in the 22nd Precinct had not gone overboard, and had tried to shield him from the stupidity of their Captain. The man had even taken the effort to include Tony in his own small family gatherings over the holidays.

All in all, Sam had managed to prove to Tony in every way possible that he was not just a partner, but a friend as well.

Tony knew that if anything was ever to happen to him, Sam would not stop hunting for clues; even his disability wouldn't slow him down. He'd throw away his cane and limp to get from A to B if he had to, enduring all that pain without one word of complaint.

That Tony had one person in his life that he could rely upon like that meant more to him than words could adequately describe.

Now, Tony suspected he had two.

Agent Gibbs was a gruff man, who seemed to be reserved with all emotions except, perhaps, anger and impatience; however, having stayed with the man for almost four days, Tony had learnt a lot about him and knew that nothing about Special Agent Gibbs was simple.

Gibbs had done what he could to accommodate a man he hardly knew and had managed it all without accepting one word of thanks; Tony _had_ tried, but after the fourteenth attempt he knew it was futile. He was taking time out of his mornings and evenings to ferry Tony to and from FLETC, which Tony appreciated, even if the man's driving did take some getting used to. The older man had even helped to find him a good physiotherapist, and an attractive one at that.

Tony had come to DC expecting to find a job and nothing more; he and Gibbs had worked well together in Baltimore and Tony had appreciated the way the Senior Agent had gone above and beyond to help out him and his partner. None of that, however, prepared Tony for the situation he found himself in.

He had imagined himself spending his first week in a motel while he got his job sorted out and looked for an apartment; he certainly hadn't believed that Gibbs, the gruff, stoic former Marine Scout Sniper, would house him in his spare room until Tony got his act together.

There had also been concern about his dietary habits and his morning runs; these concerns were delivered with a far greater severity than he was used to with Sam, but Gibbs' comments certainly had an impact, nonetheless.

Of course, that didn't mean that Tony was going to stop going for his morning run or cease doing his physio exercises for longer than he had been advised; he had managed to go through his life so far on his own without doing any permanent damage so he was confident that he didn't need a constant minder, no matter what Sam or Gibbs thought.

It did feel good, however, to know that he had someone like Gibbs to watch his six. In Baltimore he had trusted Sam implicitly with every facet of his life, but he had been the only one; there had been others, mainly uniforms, that he trusted on the job but that was as far as it went.

Too many people in Baltimore had been all too eager to buy into the rumours surrounding him, and that had meant that they were too busy trying to bring him down rather than even _think_ about giving him a helping hand up.

Rumours, it seemed, were intent on following him even to DC, but Gibbs was apparently immune to the speculation that was currently circulating the bullpen in a wild frenzy.

All in all, Tony was pretty confident that even if he made no other friends, Gibbs would watch his six wholeheartedly and unfailingly, and Tony would do everything in his power to prove himself worthy of that.

* * *

><p>Gibbs had been in MTAC trying to assure his Director that the scuttlebutt surrounding his latest acquisition was completely unfounded; Morrow's face was pretty stoic about the whole situation, but his firm words indicated otherwise.<p>

He returned to the bullpen to find DiNozzo still hunched over the case files that were spread across his desk. The younger man had ignored the desk next to Gibbs and had obviously recognised the neatly organised desk opposite Gibbs' as belonging to Blackadder. Tony had seated himself diagonally across from him; Gibbs wondered if that choice had anything to do with the views that the desk afforded him.

From his seat, Tony would not only be able to watch the rest of the team, but he had a direct line-of-sight on the elevator and the door way to the stairwell. He also had a good view of the balcony above the bullpen, able to watch the comings and goings of MTAC and visitors heading up to the Director's office.

DiNozzo might be able to fool most people into believing he was shallow and arrogant, but Gibbs knew better; the younger man might waste more time than Ducky talking about the trivialities of life, and he might get more excited than Abby on a caffeine rush about completely irrelevant events, but in spite of his seemingly oblivious nature, he actually missed very little.

"Goddammit!" Tony threw the file he had been re-reading down on the desk with a great deal of frustration.

Tony had never before worked a missing persons case and the stress of it was beginning to show. He had worked one or two kidnap cases, but in those situations the conclusion was usually a foregone conclusion; most kidnap victims die within the first twenty-four hours and the odds of survival decrease exponentially after that dead-line. Their whereabouts were usually unknown, but the motives and the suspects were usually easy enough to figure out.

Murder victims presented a puzzle to be worked at, starting with the last piece, the murder itself, and working back through the victim's final hours and try to find a motive and a suspect.

Jose Ramirez had left them nothing except a large, unopened pile of envelopes and a full wardrobe; there had been no activity on his account to suggest he was getting ready to run anywhere, his clothes were still in his wardrobe and his bags were empty and sitting in the bottom of his closet.

The man had no criminal record and his performance reviews were exemplary. His C.O. had nothing but kind words for the Petty Officer, citing the young man's introverted nature as his only negative trait even though the C.O. suggested it caused far greater harm to Ramirez than it ever would to anyone else.

Tony could find no one with any potential motive and no one stood to gain from his death; his will, that had been drawn up before he served his first tour of duty, stated that all of his possessions should be sold and the profits given to a charity in his local community that provided activities and training for youths as an alternative to gang life.

"There's nothing here, Gibbs," Tony waved the file with an exasperated sigh. "There is not one shred of evidence to suggest that anything bad happened to him; if it wasn't for his exemplary record I would have thought he'd gone UA, but even then, there are no monetary transactions that suggest he left with any money to his name."

"It was because of his record that NCIS was called in," Gibbs offered the frustrated young man. He felt the same way; that a man could disappear so completely without anyone noticing for months left him feeling more than a little sick. "Shore Patrol found the stack of mail in his apartment when then went looking for him; the postage dates led them to calling us in, suspecting foul play."

"Except there isn't any sign of that, either," Tony pointed out. He'd read the forensics report and knew that the whole apartment had been gone over with a fine toothcomb and _still_ turned up nothing.

"It's like he just disappeared into thin air, and _no one _noticed…no one! How the hell could no one notice that their friend or their neighbour…their _son_, just stopped answering phone calls or opening his door for three months!"

Gibbs frowned a little at how worked up DiNozzo was getting over the case; he understood that it was frustrating but he couldn't see why this case would affect him so much more than any of the others. DiNozzo's anger over their case together in Baltimore had been more to do with the FBI offering hardened criminals a get-out-of-jail-free card than him being unable to handle the distressing nature of the case.

"I'm going to go and get Ducky's review of the case," Gibbs said as he left the room, leaving behind a very confused DiNozzo.

"Why the hell does he need a Medical Examiner?" Tony mumbled to himself. "There isn't even a body!"

* * *

><p>Gibbs didn't need to see Ducky, but he did go down to autopsy with a purpose. He couldn't understand DiNozzo's reaction to the case and he honestly didn't know why so many people seemed to be intent on hating DiNozzo before they had a chance to see his competency, before they had even <em>met<em> him. He wandered down to autopsy to ask the M.E. for his opinion, as he was wont to do when he needed a good sounding-board.

"Jethro," Ducky said in a tone that Gibbs knew meant that one of his short-comings would be brought up. "Surely you cannot be that oblivious! The men and women who work in the MCRT know you as one of NCIS's most highly capable agents; your case-closure rate is something that has you revered by many and that has other teams aspiring to reach. These rumours surrounding young Anthony are malicious, but not out of hatred; they are deeply envious in their origin.

"You have worked alongside some of these people for years, and when the Director granted you permission to create your own team, there was a sudden, eager rush of hopefuls milling around your desk in the bullpen, desperate to be chosen to fill a place on _your_ team.

"Instead, you choose a Baltimore Homicide Detective from a case which _forced_ you to work alongside local Law Enforcement Officers, a task that everyone knows you despise with a passion.

"You had Agent Nixon removed not only from your team, but also from the DC office; you are not exactly subtle in your disregard for Agent Blackadder's abilities, either. However, even with Vivian's presence, you still have one empty desk to fill and yet you show no signs of seeking to fill it.

"People are jealous of the faith you appear to place in a man that you only spent mere days working alongside; they cannot understand what young Mr. DiNozzo possesses that they lack. They have yet to see in him what _you_ witnessed in Baltimore!

"I have no doubt that once they see Anthony working, and working well, that some of that bitterness will disappear, but it will take time and patience, Jethro," Ducky stressed the last part with a pointed look at his old friend, all too aware that patience was not the Senior Agent's strong point; he could spend two days sat in a sniper's nest with nothing but a rifle without so much as a twitch, but ask him to wait five minutes for an answer and he was skulking off in search of caffeine!

"Huh," Gibbs muttered darkly to himself as he thought of people's petty issues impacting upon _his_ team, _his_ Agent! "And the case?"

"I couldn't say with certainty," Ducky offered with a censure and disappointment that suggested Gibbs was missing something vitally important. "I _would_ suggest that young Anthony is feeling slightly empathic towards Petty Officer Ramirez."

"Why?" Gibbs asked, completely nonplussed. "They're nothing alike!" he said as he thought of their lives.

DiNozzo spent his childhood in a wealthy Long Island neighbourhood, while Ramirez came from one of the poorest areas in the capital. DiNozzo had spent all of his working life as a cop, bouncing from one place to the next once he cashed in his pay-check, while Ramirez stayed in the same place for years and joined the US Navy. DiNozzo was wild and unpredictable while Ramirez was quiet and methodical. He couldn't see any similarities.

"Jethro, when you asked me for my opinion on this case yesterday, I did actually take the time to read the files," Ducky said sounding quite offended. "They are both young men with no family to speak of, with few people in their lives who hold any real level of expectations. Given what little I _do_ know of his past, I imagine Anthony would have no trouble at all identifying with the young Petty Officer, envisioning a life where he too went missing, and no one cared enough to notice.

"Your latest acquisition has many strong points to his character, but his greatest weaknesses are all tied up with some truly crippling insecurities; he seems to have very few doubts about his ability to do his job, but on a more personal level he seems entirely lost. His need to prove himself worthy is almost pathological in its intensity."

"He's not going out of his way to prove himself to everyone in the MCRT," Gibbs pointed out, and it was true; DiNozzo had surely heard at least some of the rubbish going around the bullpen about him, but so far he had resolutely ignored it all.

"Because he is not interested in what _they_ think," Ducky explained. "Their malicious words may well affect him, but they are not the ones he feels the need to prove himself to." The older man paused and waited for some of what he was saying to sink in, but his friend still looked ridiculously clueless; for someone with a gut as infamous as his, Jethro certainly did miss some of the more important aspects of life when it came to the personal side of things.

"_You_, Jethro," Ducky finally pointed out with more than a touch of exasperation. "He wants to impress _you_. You hand-picked him from a case you both worked in Baltimore, a case that was certainly not without its problems; his transfer here is already causing a stir and he wants to prove to you that he is worth all the trouble you went to in order to acquire him."

He didn't really have anything else to say to Ducky after his long-winded explanation; it _did_ make sense, as loathe as he was to admit it. He also knew that if he wanted the sort of working relationship that DiNozzo had with Jacobs then he was going to have to go beyond the job.

However, he also thought that in offering DiNozzo the job in the first place he was clearly showing the younger man that he _already_ had confidence in the former Detective's abilities. If DiNozzo hadn't already managed to prove himself then Gibbs would never have made him an offer!

If one thing had been made clear since DiNozzo had started his probationary period at NCIS it was that nothing would be simple with the man.

Gibbs desperately needed a coffee before sitting himself down at a desk and going over the Ramirez case yet again. His insecure addition was undoubtedly feeling the strain of the hostile glares being thrown his way, and DiNozzo could probably do with the break that a caffeinated Gibbs would offer him.

* * *

><p>Gibbs and Tony had just returned from re-questioning Ramirez's next-door neighbour. The elderly woman had nothing but kind words about her quiet, polite and respectful neighbour but could not come up with any more information than she had managed in her initial statement, nearly ten months ago.<p>

It was yet another dead end.

However, Gibbs had managed to find _some_ sort of amusement from the depressing situation they had both found themselves in; when Mrs Kaplinski was not answering questions, she spent most of the interview clucking her tongue over Tony's apparently dishevelled appearance.

Gibbs had thought the younger man looked well put together; his suit was clean and crisp and his hair was carefully styled. Seeing DiNozzo in one piece and relatively healthy in DC made it hard to imagine the weak and pale man who had emerged from a Baltimore hospital bed all those weeks ago.

The elderly Mrs Kaplinski was not so easily convinced.

DiNozzo's frame was considered too skinny for one his height, and Gibbs _did_ have to concede that the younger man had lost a worrisome amount of weight that he had yet to fully regain over the course of his recovery. The bags under DiNozzo's eyes were apparently so pronounced that the elderly woman had managed to wrangle a solemn promise from him to get a good night's sleep.

Despite her obvious concern, her maternal considerations could not have been bestowed upon a more reluctant victim.

Give Tony an interview with a shallow, big-breasted barmaid who would look at him as a lioness would look at a gazelle and Tony's attention could not be diverted, but give him a woman who fusses over his well-being and his eyes dart desperately around the room looking for a way to escape.

DiNozzo may well love attention, but it clearly had to be attention of a certain nature; the younger man seemed to thrive on competition and judging from his personnel files he seemed to flourish when forced to deal with other people's animosity towards him, but concern from anyone he was not well acquainted with was clearly something DiNozzo did not understand and therefore would not seek out.

Normally Gibbs would never consider allowing a Junior Agent to lead an interview, but he knew that the cold case needed new eyes and ears, and more than that, he wanted to see how well DiNozzo performed.

Besides having a slightly hunched octogenarian berating his dietary habits, DiNozzo had done well with the interview, steering the elderly Mrs Kaplinski back to the subject at hand and artfully extracting information. Unfortunately, no matter how well DiNozzo performed in the interview, there had been no new information to turn up.

"Maybe we should dredge the Potomac," Tony said as he fell into the seat behind his desk, depressingly aware of the fact that the case was likely to remain cold no matter how much they looked into things. "He doesn't seem to be anywhere else; the Potomac seems like just a good a place as any to start looking for a body."

"DiNozzo," Gibbs sighed heavily, as though he were a teacher explaining something simple yet again to one of his more stubborn students. "I don't think we can rationalise the expense of such an action on the off chance that we _might_ find a body."

"I bet we'd find more than one," Tony snorted, as he thought about just who else might turn up if they dredged the major river. He turned back to the files strewn across his desk and began to re-read them for the thirty-second time.

"DiNozzo," Gibbs walked over and closed the files. "Rule 11: when the job is done, walk away."

"Is it done?" Tony asked with a frown, mentally noting down the latest rule to be thrown his way.

"It is for now; we can't dwell on every case," Gibbs shrugged. "My team has one of the highest case-closure rates, but no one has a perfect record; no matter how hard we try, some cases just can't be solved."

"So you walk away, and it's really that easy?" Tony asked sceptically. He couldn't reconcile the words with the Agent he had come to know.

Gibbs knew that there was no simple answer to such a question; it was one of his rules and that _should_ mean that it was one he could follow. However, there were some cases that just refused to leave him alone, some unsolved cases that he refused to file away in the basement with the others, and instead insisted on housing them in one of his desk drawers.

There were some cases, like the Ramirez case, that would never be solved until a body turned up or someone's conscience got the better of them. Some people were undoubtedly murdered, but others were simply the victims of misfortune; he suspected Ramirez fell into the latter group.

The hard part was setting those cases to rest. However, his years in NCIS had taught him that he could not close every case personally and that if he set out to achieve just that then he would likely burn out in less than a year.

"It is never easy, but I know when to walk away," Gibbs finally settled on answering.

DiNozzo could believe that; for all of his impatience and gruff commands, Gibbs was of a relatively pragmatic nature. Tony had worked a Homicide desk in Baltimore so he knew about not being able to solve every case; that didn't make it any easier to handle.

It was, however, strangely reassuring to know that a Federal Agency like NCIS struggled with case closure just as much as a Police Department like Baltimore's, where the funding was worlds apart.

"Yeah," Tony sighed as he gathered the files together and put them in one of his desk drawers; he might not be able to solve the Ramirez case _yet_, but that didn't mean he was going to give up.

Gibbs followed DiNozzo's movement and hid a smile as he saw where the files ended up; there were certain actions the younger man executed that made it feel as though Gibbs were looking into a mirror. However, DiNozzo's highly unpredictable nature would mean that Gibbs was never likely to forget just who, exactly, he was dealing with.

"Come on, DiNozzo," Gibbs said as he shrugged into his jacket. "There are a couple of steaks and beers with our names on them."

Tony got up and gathered together his belongings, giving a final glance towards his desk drawer with a furrowed brow; one day he would find out how Ramirez had managed to disappear into thin air without anyone noticing, but right then, food sounded too good to pass up.

"You know, Gibbs," he started conversationally. "You might want to consider a more balanced diet; you need some greens in there and some carbohydrates. Man cannot live on protein alone."

"DiNozzo," Gibbs replied just as conversationally as he pressed the elevator buttons with one hand and slapped Tony up the head with the other. "Shut up."

"Yes, Boss," Tony grinned even as he rubbed his head; those head slaps were going to take some getting used to.

* * *

><p><em><strong>There you go, let me know what you think; constructive criticism is welcome.<strong>_

_**C.O. – Commanding Officer.**_

_**UA – Unauthorised Absence.**_

_**Next up, Tony finds out about just how closely he is being watched at FLETC and he tries to deal with things while hunting for an apartment with Abby. **_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Thanks once again to everyone who has taken the time to review/message. Your encouragement and constructive criticism is much appreciated.**_

_**One reviewer was unhappy with the lack of action; this piece **_**will**_** have some drama but it is largely a character driven piece with plenty of introspection, focusing primarily on Tony and Gibbs getting to know each other and the challenges a new work place offers. Tony has already had his trial by fire in Baltimore and I can't believe any Federal Agency would throw their new agents in at the deep end without first establishing exactly what they are capable of doing. If you're looking for a story full of shootings and car chases, then this is not the one for you; sorry!**_

_**That said…Abby helps Tony look for an apartment of his own and learns a little about the latest member, while Gibbs tries to get the Director to back off.**_

* * *

><p>"What do you mean?" Tony asked, exasperation leaking out from every fibre of his being. "What the hell is wrong with <em>this<em> one?"

Gibbs tried to hide his smile.

DiNozzo had been looking forward to the weekend. Despite the fact that he would never admit it, the week had tired him out; he was still not yet back up to full health after his shooting and the intensive week of FLETC courses and cold cases had exhausted him. A lie-in had been more than a little enticing.

Unfortunately, DiNozzo had not banked on one thing.

Abby.

The energetic Forensic Scientist had promised the newcomer that she would help him look for an apartment, and Abby never did anything half-assed.

DiNozzo had been dragged out of his bed long before he was ready to greet the new day and presented with a whole host of printouts containing more choice than Gibbs would have believed to be available in the surrounding area.

Abby had certainly done her homework.

Gibbs was a habitual early riser, and had been since his days in the USMC; he had been seated at his table knocking back his second coffee of the day when the young woman had burst through his door with little more than a loud but cheerful greeting before she worked her way up to the guest room.

He didn't know what Abby had done to get the younger man out of bed so quickly, but whatever tactic she had employed had clearly been effective and entirely unwelcome if the grumbles and glares from DiNozzo were anything to go by.

They had been seated at the kitchen table while Abby went through various potential candidates, illustrating their various strengths and weaknesses and completely disregarding anything DiNozzo had to say on the matter.

The younger man had eventually woken up enough to point out that he had his own, much smaller list of apartments that he wanted to check out.

So far, Abby had managed to dismiss all of them for one reason or another.

"Tony, have you even _looked_ at the address?" Abby said with an impatient frown and a tone that implied she was talking to someone who still belonged in Kindergarten. "There is not one club within reasonable distance of this place; you'd be in the middle of _nowhere_."

"I'd be in the middle of _DC_," Tony pointed out, feeling more exhausted and exasperated as the morning went on. "It's not even a ten minute drive from the Navy Yard and there is a park a five minute run away."

He was very eager to have somewhere to run.

In Baltimore, Sam would take him down to the gym and have him vent all of his frustrations on a punching bag, but when he wasn't at the Precinct Tony liked to run off his problems. He knew that becoming an NCIS Special Agent was a good step up for a Homicide Detective, but he also knew that he would have more than enough bad days that he would have to work through; running would always help him there.

"Tony, there is more to finding a place to live than figuring out how close it is to work," Abby pointed out, not even trying to hide her disappointment. She had understood that Tony liked to hit the clubs every now and then and she'd been excited about finding someone from work to share her own passion. Where was his enthusiasm?

Tony was _not_ feeling very enthusiastic about his afternoon. He didn't want much from an apartment, as he was rarely there anyway, but he did want somewhere comfortable and accessible. He wanted a park or a river-side path to run along, he wanted a local bar and he wanted to be close to work and shops.

He knew from his time as a Detective that sometimes the last thing you wanted to do after a hard case was take a long drive home and cook a meal. Somewhere close by with a steady supply of take-away restaurants and corner shops was ideal; he could pick up what he wanted when he needed it and wouldn't exhaust himself by driving from one side of the city to the other.

He thought those demands were pretty reasonable.

Abby thought otherwise.

Apparently he needed to know about the clubs in an area and what _type_ of shops were on offer; the Goth had even printed out crime statistics on the various areas they were looking at. She had turned down one of Tony's potentials because of the high rate of drug related crimes in the area and another because of the rate of car theft.

Tony was touched that she was concerned enough about him and, more importantly, his _car_ to look up and compare crime statistics, but everywhere had crime of one sort or another and other than his beloved car he had very little worth stealing. He carried a gun most of the time so he wasn't too worried about being held up in some dark alley-way and he knew the basics of hand-to-hand so even if someone _did_ get the drop on him he could likely give back as good as he got.

"We _are_ going to check out some of these," Tony said through gritted teeth as he waved about his own suggestions.

Abby pouted and Gibbs fought hard once again to hide his smile; he knew that an upset Abby could get _him_ to do almost anything and he was sure that with time, Tony would be equally as biddable to her kicked puppy routine. Until then, it seemed as though Abby was destined to get to know the more stubborn side of DiNozzo; it was beyond compare as far as Gibbs was concerned, despite whatever the elderly M.E. might allude to with his comparisons to a certain Marine Scout Sniper.

Gibbs got himself ready to leave; there were a few things he wanted to sort out at NCIS and despite not being on call over the weekend, he didn't have a lot else to do with his time. He certainly didn't want to trail around DC looking at potential apartments, listening to the two of them as they bitched and moaned about the other's choices.

"Have fun children," Gibbs offered with no hint of the amusement he was really feeling at the image of a grumbling DiNozzo, complete with bed-head hair and a t-shirt on back to front and a Goth who was alternating between pouting at DiNozzo's choices and bouncing with excitement over the day's activities.

He was sure their day would be interesting, if nothing else.

* * *

><p>Tony was feeling much more alive after being allowed a quick shower and breakfast, but he still dreaded what the day might bring.<p>

He and Abby had been getting on well after their bumpy start and he didn't want to risk their burgeoning friendship with terse words of frustration; alternatively, he didn't want to spend his next few years stuck in the noisy clubbing district. He went clubbing as an escape after a bad day and he preferred to keep work, home and play separate; there was a reason he tried to avoid taking his one-night stands to _his_ place.

So far the two of them had looked at a few of the properties on Abby's list; a couple of them had _not_ been presented to him that morning. The apartments themselves were pretty reasonable; well-lit and spacious.

"Tony," Abby turned to him with both hands clasped together as if in prayer. "I can't let you live here," she said half pleading, half demanding and completely ignoring the affronted landlord.

Not surprisingly it was the first on Tony's list that he had earmarked.

He would be loath to admit it out loud, but he actually found himself agreeing with Abby's assessment. While he may never spend much time at his apartment, he would still like it to live up to certain standards.

The flat was well situated; very close to work, the river and a variety of take-away restaurants for those lazy days that were sure to follow some of the more intensive cases.

The flat itself however…well, Tony took little comfort in the fact that at least the rats and cockroaches were comfortable.

"Let's get some lunch and talk things over," Tony said diplomatically gesturing for Abby to leave and offering the landlord a small, forced smile.

* * *

><p>Gibbs had been going over a few cold cases that had possible leads to follow up on, but he had turned up nothing; perhaps he'd get DiNozzo to look through them and see if he could find anything that might have been overlooked. The bottom drawer of his desk was getting full of open cases that he one day hoped to resolve; he had the feeling that DiNozzo would gladly share that burden, as he seemed tenacious enough himself not to leave a case open.<p>

It was around lunch and he decided to head down to his favourite coffee shop; there he bumped into Agent Fornell, the Hoover Building's very own answer to Special Agent Gibbs. The two were more than content in sniping at each other, but they had both learnt to respect the other for their abilities.

Gibbs knew that if ever the FBI had to be involved, he would take dealing with Fornell any day of the week rather than deal with some wet behind the ears Fed who didn't know what he was doing. He had a low opinion of the FBI in general, but he knew that Fornell was a man he could rely upon.

"Jethro," came the jovial greeting as the other man saluted his presence with his own coffee cup.

"Tobias," Gibbs returned the greeting as he gathered up his own two cups and joined the FBI Agent at his table.

"Congratulations, Jethro; I hear you've adopted," Fornell said with a curious glance. "I'm afraid I forgot to bring the baby blue blanket, but I know where I can acquire a couple of rather exquisite Cuban Cigars; you'll have to keep that bit of information to yourself though."

Gibbs rolled his eyes; it seemed as though the rumour mill between the Navy Yard and the Hoover Building was still as efficient as ever.

"Something you wanted, Tobias?" Gibbs liked to cut straight to the point.

"I wanted to hear the truth directly from you; DiNozzo is now working for NCIS?" he asked curiously.

"Did you really think that he was going to stay in Baltimore?" Gibbs demanded incredulously, as he thought of everything that had gone wrong over the course of the case they had all been involved in.

"That is not an admission," Fornell pointed out, completely disregarding the NCIS Agent's tone.

"Morrow has him completing a few basic courses over at FLETC first, but yes, DiNozzo will soon be a fully-fledged Agent of NCIS;" he had no doubts that DiNozzo would end the probationary period with flying colours. "Tough luck, Fornell," Gibbs said with a smirk and sounding as though he was not at all sincere in his commiseration. "Looks like another one escaped your net."

"There is time yet, Jethro," Fornell said primly. He might have been the first to offer DiNozzo a job, but the events in Philadelphia had made any chance of the younger man accepting it far from likely. Fornell had noticed almost immediately upon his arrival in Baltimore that DiNozzo had trusted Gibbs and, once his partner had been injured, the younger man had even deferred to Gibbs' decisions.

"I can't promise that I won't try to poach him," Fornell finally said.

"I can't say that I'm worried," Gibbs shrugged nonchalantly; and he wasn't; he could remember all too well the openly hostile way DiNozzo had reacted to Fornell's presence on the Jennings' case in Baltimore.

* * *

><p>The restaurant, as it turned out, was the same Italian Bistro that Pacci had taken him to when he had first arrived in DC; it was small but friendly and only a short walk from the Navy Yard. The food tasted as good as it smelt, and Tony was sure he would try to spend as many of his lunch breaks as possible in the family bistro.<p>

"Buongiorno, welcome to Sorrentino's," came a heavily accented voice. Tony looked up and found himself looking at an older woman with a dark olive-skin complexion; despite her apparent age her hair was still as black as night and her dark eyes carefully scrutinised the newcomers. She hadn't been working the last time Tony had eaten there.

"Buongiorno," Tony returned the greeting with a flawless Italian accent that went a little way towards endearing himself to the formidable looking woman, whose searching look softened slightly as she took in the Italian accent, the dark circles under his eyes and the clothes that were slightly too loose on his frame.

"Here are menus," she offered them with a smile. "Specials are up on board; the carpaccio is excellente."

"Sounds good to me," Tony returned the smile. "Although I think before long I'll have tasted everything on the menu," he said, salivating as his eyes focused on the pasta dish being consumed at the next table.

They placed their orders and made small talk with the owner, who had insisted that her name was Mama Sorrentino, about their job and the various apartments they had visited over the morning; the woman had enjoyed the attention, used to the rush that most lunch-time customers seemed to be in. Mama Sorrentino delivered their meal with a flourish and instructed Tony to eat a proper meal.

With a firm promise from Tony to devour everything on his plate, the owner bustled off to deal with the latest batch of diners and Abby was forced to keep up the conversation without the vivacious old woman; normally she wouldn't find talking such a daunting task, but there was still so much to discover about the latest member of Team Gibbs, and she had yet to learn about which topics were safe and which were best avoided.

"So what was your place like in Baltimore?" Abby asked, diving in, eager to get to know something of substance about the man; DiNozzo was certainly verbose by nature but he rarely talked about anything that mattered, unless it involved work, she supposed.

"Small but comfortable," Tony shrugged. He wasn't really sure how else to describe his last place.

It had been in a rough neighbourhood but everyone had known him as a cop and so he got little trouble; many of the people living in the same building had appreciated sharing with a cop for the benefits that it brought them.

Mothers didn't have to worry about their youngsters seeing drug deals going down on their own doorstep anymore, as business moved away once Tony had made his presence known. Petty theft had also decreased and many of the older residents felt a lot safer with Tony around; that, in turn, brought benefits to the Detective, who had a steady supply of meals being delivered to his door by overly eager neighbours, desperate to show their gratitude and the older women hell bent on fattening him up.

Tony had never much felt like he deserved it, having done nothing more than be a cop and turn up, but after that first taste, he became a slave to Mrs. Tate's peach pie so he never complained _too_ loudly.

Abby frowned, trying to think of a way to get her new friend to open up. She had managed a few conversations with DiNozzo over the past week, despite the imposing schedule that FLETC demanded, but she had yet to really get to know the newcomer.

"What was it like working in Baltimore?" she tried a work-related question and hoped he would feel comfortable enough to reveal something unintentionally.

"Busy," Tony smiled wryly. "There is never a lazy day in a Baltimore Homicide Department; murder is pretty big business there."

Abby nodded, all too aware of the reputation Baltimore had for being one of the most violent cities in the United States.

"The people that work there are just like everywhere else, though," Tony said with a supressed but still audible sigh. Yep…the people in Baltimore had given him just as much trouble there as anywhere else.

"Was the hazing pretty bad when you first started?" asked Abby curiously, guessing from the small frown that marred his forehead that his thoughts had turned to the negative. She couldn't imagine any hazing ritual going easy on such a young and newly decorated Detective as well as a guy with Tony's wealthy Long Island background.

"Things got pretty intense," Tony nodded, his eyes looking into the distance. "Coffee runs and trips to the basement digging through old case files were pretty standard fare, and I didn't mind that; it's about what you'd expect as the low man on the totem pole.

"Some people took things too far, though," he shook his head and turned to see that he had managed to capture Abby's complete attention. He hadn't thought she'd be interested in hearing about the antics of a Baltimore Precinct, but she was the most quiet and still she had been all day.

"A few of them started to make it personal; started in on my family or on some of the few friends I'd made there," he said as he thought of a few of the barbed comments that had been directed at some of his friends in patrol or in the lab.

"Most of the time, though, it was just stupid pranks…you know, things to make me look stupid in front of the higher ups," Tony shrugged nonchalantly.

"You saying it didn't bother you?" Abby asked, as she took note of the casual way he responded.

"Honestly? Not really…not most of the time, anyway. Like I said, stupid pranks and coffee runs are pretty much expected," Tony said with a smile, thinking of all the pranks he had managed in revenge; those times had been fun!

"I think the whole hazing thing is ridiculous," Abby shook her head. She'd always had a strong personality and had been confident in herself, able to stand up to anyone who thought bullying her would be easy sport, even through the awkward stages of high school; some of her friends had not been quite so lucky. There were days when it had seemed as though anyone who set much stock by their studies rather than their social lives were made viable targets for the rest of the high school flock. "I mean seriously, all that stuff should stay in school and in the frat houses."

"Nah," Tony disagreed as he finished his meal with a sated sigh. "I get the whole hazing thing; you _need_ to know that the guy at your back is going to watch your six no matter what personal issues there may be between you at any given moment. You need to know that the other guy is committed to backing you up during a foot-chase or a fire-fight, without hesitation and without a moment of doubt.

"If someone is prepared to go through all the crap that is thrown their way during hazing and _still_ be fully committed to the job and to the people, well…it means a hell of a lot to everyone involved. Something you have to work hard to gain means all the more in the end; in _this_ job, the respect you have from the people you work with and, most of all, the respect you have for yourself means everything, and both of them have got to be earned."

"I guess," Abby relented. She could see the point and knew that, psychologically speaking, hazing _could_ be a crucial aspect of building up some kind of solidarity between those involved, but she still though some of the practices crossed the line.

"I managed to do my job despite it all, and it did me no harm," Tony said with a grin that dared her to argue that point. "I reckon if I'd had an easier ride I wouldn't have felt quite so inclined to aim to be the best I could be and prove everyone wrong. The only thing Sam had to go on when he first started working with me was the rumours going round about me, and none of them were good.

"He gave me the crappy jobs and made me jump through all sorts of hoops; sometimes I got pissed off but most of the time I just got on with it. He began to see that he could trust me to do the job and do it right, no matter what. I _gave_ a damn about proving myself to him; he was my partner and the one I was going to be reliant upon to do my job. His opinion was the only one that really mattered.

"Here at NCIS, I have to prove myself to Gibbs and _probably_ the Director," although Tony _did_ have doubts that there was any man alive who would willingly enforce orders on the uncompromising former Marine Scout Sniper. "I really have no reason to impress anyone else; if they want to treat me like crap, fine, but I don't owe them anything."

"You should know that a lot of people were hoping to get a position on Gibbs' team," Abby said, whether it was a knee-jerk reaction to protect some of her colleagues or an attempt to make Tony feel better about the rather malicious scuttlebutt that was making the rounds, she couldn't guess.

"And, er…I kind of think that you've already proved yourself to Gibbs, you know, given everything that happened in Baltimore," Abby informed him as she nodded to his chest, which she knew was still causing him some discomfort, if not pain. She knew that Tony had impressed her Bossman long before the end of the case, but getting himself shot saving a little girl seemed to have cemented Gibbs' good opinion and spurred him into offering DiNozzo a position on his team.

"Yeah," Tony added, sounding far from convinced. "I guess."

"Come on," Abby said as she got up and headed towards the counter, pulling out her purse as she went. "We need to find you a place to live," she offered him a grin as he unleashed a heavy, resigned sigh. "I think the next place we'll go to is about a ten minute car ride from here; I think this one might be what you're looking for, even if I think you could do better."

"Alright then…let's get back to your hearse," Tony threw up his hands in defeat.

* * *

><p>"How is DiNozzo coming along?" came Morrow's eventual question.<p>

He had entered the bullpen almost ten minutes earlier and had perched himself on the edge of Blackadder's desk. Clearly he had hoped that Gibbs would start the conversation, but in truth, the Senior Agent had very little new to say to the Director.

The man had managed to find several excuses to visit the bullpen during the past few days and he always asked about DiNozzo; it was obvious that his decision to allow Gibbs to form his own team was beginning to worry the older man.

"Fine," Gibbs answered with his custom curtness.

"Good, good," Morrow nodded to himself. "And is he settling in ok?"

"He's fine," Gibbs stated firmly, wishing that the man would just let him get on with training up his latest Agent without all the interference. "Abby's driving him around in her hearse looking at apartments with him," he offered a little extra information when it became obvious that Morrow was fishing for something more.

"His instructors at FLETC seem to be suitably impressed with him," Morrow idly commented, although he was closely watching his Agent's reaction.

"I'm sure they are," Gibbs said through gritted teeth as they finally got to the crux if the matter; he stared intently at the file in front of him. "I could have…I _have_ told you that he is highly competent; you don't need to spy on him to know that."

He remembered Ducky's earlier words and knew without a shadow of doubt that if the younger man found out that he was being so closely watched, his insecurities would rise up and he would be plagued by self-doubt. Even Gibbs, who was not a great people person, could see that DiNozzo had some severe issues regarding self-perception; the job seemed to be one of the few things that Tony was confident about, and Gibbs was loath to take that away from him.

"_You_ may have been the one to offer him the job, Jethro, but _I'm_ the one that has to approve him," Morrow replied, with a hint of censure in his tone. "If he does well over the remainder of the probationary period then he will join your team, but he will still be _my_ Agent."

Gibbs had nothing to say to that and hated to hear the truth behind those words; he would never have complete autonomy when it came to his team and he despised the idea of someone else…_anyone_ else being able to interfere.

* * *

><p>"So, everything is going ok at FLETC?" Abby asked as they drove to their next location.<p>

"Yeah," Tony shrugged, still unhappy at the idea of being sent back to school to learn the basics of criminal law and protocol as well as the basics of forensic science; all of which he had gone over at the Police Academy and had learnt after several years on the job.

"The instructors seem to be keeping a closer eye on me than everyone else," Tony pointed out with a frown. "I'm not entirely sure why, though."

"Oh," Abby said quietly; she had heard Gibbs grumble at the fact that the Director was taking a far more active role in DiNozzo's training process.

"Oh?" Tony asked, sensing more to her exclamation.

"The Director might have asked them to keep an eye on you," she explained rather hesitantly. "I don't think it is because he doesn't think you're good enough, but Gibbs was the one to bring you in and he has never done that before; I think he's just worried that he doesn't know who he's getting," she rushed to say after catching the brief flicker of distress at the insinuation that he needed to be watched.

"Yeah, maybe," Tony said quietly; he was clearly unhappy with the latest discovery surrounding his employment at NCIS. Maybe the Director had his own money riding on the betting pool.

* * *

><p>"This is it, Tony," Abby proclaimed as she clapped her hands together.<p>

Tony found it hard to disagree.

He left Abby to answer her ringing phone as he went to look around the apartment, finding himself drawn to the view out of one of the windows in the main bedroom and ponder his options.

The apartment itself was not particularly big, but it was comfortable and well-lit, with windows looking out to the South. The main living quarters were open-plan, the polished granite counter being the only thing separating the kitchen from the living room. The main bedroom had an en-suite shower room and there was even a spare bedroom, as small as it was it would still serve its purpose.

The building's communal areas were clean and well cared for and the landlord had been nothing but polite; many of the places they had visited had been accompanied by some rather severe looking owners.

The location was ideal as well; the Potomac was only a stone's throw away, offering up the possibilities of refreshing runs along the river when he needed to work off some of the excess tension. They had passed a good selection of local shops, complete with speciality delicatessens and a mixture of restaurants. The Navy Yard was just over a fifteen minute drive away in light traffic, too.

Best of all, the building had secure parking, which would mean that there would be no sleepless nights as he worried about his baby parked out on the streets and open to the elements.

He had spent almost twenty minutes looking around the apartment, inspecting every closet and every feature, and asking the landlord about the rent and the estimated expense of bills, trying to figure out whether or not he could afford it.

He had been so absorbed in trying to figure out what he would do with the space that the slap up the back of his head had been totally unexpected and completely unwelcome.

"What was _that_ for?" he whined as he rubbed as his sore head; he was sure the back of his head was going to suffer through a lot of abuse over the coming years working under Gibbs.

"Rule Three, DiNozzo: _never_ be unreachable," Gibbs reprimanded the younger man; he'd had to call Abby in an effort to track him down.

"I wasn't," Tony denied as he mentally noted down another of the infamous rules. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his mobile phone. "See…oh!" he said quietly as he realised that the battery must have died on him.

Gibbs rolled his eyes and let loose an impatient sigh; "Make sure it doesn't happen again!" he warned DiNozzo sternly.

"Yes Boss," Tony saluted with a mischievous glint in his eyes, only to receive another head-slap for his cheek.

"He'll take it," Gibbs turned to the landlord; he hadn't missed the way his latest recruit was so absorb by the apartment in front of him that he failed to notice his boss enter the room. "Abby, sort out contact details," he ordered the young woman. "Come on, DiNozzo, we've got a case."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Thanks for reading, and hope you enjoyed it. Half way through writing this chapter, I started on the next one, so it shouldn't take too long until it is posted, but as this statement tells you…I'm not necessarily logical when it comes to order and proper organisation.<strong>_

_**USMC – United States Marine Corps.**_

_**FLETC – Federal Law Enforcement Training Centre**_

_**Next-up…Tony wakes up with a headache and Gibbs tries to come to terms with the fact that DiNozzo and concussions are synonymous.**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Thanks once again to everyone who has read and reviewed/messaged. Much appreciated.**_

_**This is quite a long chapter, certainly a lot longer than I had originally thought it would be!**_

_**I am in no way medically trained (biology GCSE is as far as I went) so I'm sorry if any of the medical part is incorrect.  
><strong>_

_**On with the story…Tony's first official NCIS case does not get off to a great start, but things can only get better…right?**_

* * *

><p>"Urgh!" Tony groaned as consciousness came to him. His head felt both fuzzy and acutely painful at the same time and he found that he didn't mind in the slightest about the concrete bed he awoke to find himself lying on.<p>

"DiNozzo?" came a slightly worried voice from above.

It took him a few moments to place the voice, certainly longer than it should have done; he'd gone to the abandoned building with only one other person, after all.

"Gibbs?" he asked hesitantly…hopefully. He tried to crack open an eye and found that the hammering in his head only increased and his vision swayed between a bright haze of colours and a mass of black; closing his eyes again seemed like the sensible thing to do, if not the _only_ option available to him.

"Right here, DiNozzo," Gibbs said quietly, positive that the younger man was feeling the awful aftereffects of a concussion. "Do you know where you are, DiNozzo?" he asked hoping for some sign that the younger man was somewhat cognizant of his surroundings.

"Here," Tony answered as he felt the pull of darkness that sleep was sure to bring.

"Where's here?" Gibbs asked; his brief smile was quickly dampened by the way Tony's already closed eyes scrunched up in pain. He could hear Ducky's voice in the back of his mind: _keep him conscious, don't move him and try to make sure he's comfortable; keep an eye out for signs of shock._

Tony sighed loudly as he realised that his desire to sleep and ignore all of his aches and pains was not going to be met. He slowly cracked open an eye and allowed himself a full minute to get used to the light and swallow back his nausea.

The room was dark but there was a tiny sliver of light coming in from high up; shadows dancing across the walls suggested the light was coming from outside, because nothing was moving _inside_ the room. He squinted at the window and caught sight of a tree branch swaying in the wind.

"Basement?" he deduced, as he glanced towards his boss, who was hovering uncertainly above him. His face might have been bathed in shadows, but Tony could read the uncertainty in the man's whole posture; the man was worried…about _him_?

"Close enough," Gibbs acknowledged with relief, glad to discover that his latest team member was not completely oblivious in his semi-lucid state. "Do you remember what happened?"

"Erm…" he had to think, and he almost laughed at the fact that the simple task had physically hurt; he played out _that_ possible conversation: _'I'm thinking,'_ he would say, _'well, don't strain yourself,'_ would come the smart-ass reply from most people.

Thankfully, Gibbs was not most people.

"Baseball bat," he groaned distastefully. Someone had to come after him with a goddamn baseball bat; acting as a human punch-bag was, after all, the best way to impress your new boss.

"You want to tell me what happened?" Gibbs said, and Tony knew it was not a request and was most certainly an order.

"Well…you took the barns, and I took the house," Tony began.

_They had come to the address in an effort to find out more about their Staff Sergeant, only to find that the address he had listed in his personnel files belonged to a house that, clearly, no one had lived in for several years._

_The small, dilapidated farmhouse looked as though a stiff wind could topple the whole lot and a large part of the roof was missing. Tony had been worried about putting a foot down on the rotting floorboards of the porch, certain that it would go straight through; the old door certainly hadn't needed much of a push to open it, even with the rusting lock still in place._

_The sheer depth of dust and dirt in the house had Tony convinced that no one had entered the building for a couple of years at least, but he knew that he had to be thorough and make sure that all of the rooms in the house were equally untouched._

_He found no evidence in the house of any recent disturbance, but _did_ find a few photographs that were of their suspect; photos of him in his youth and surrounded by his family, but undoubtedly SSgt. Henson._

_He went to the barn to update Gibbs, not at all surprised that he had finished his search first; the farmhouse might have been small, but there were several outbuildings. He headed towards the largest barn; Tony took in the metal rails, the hooks and the broken down air vent and could smell the faintest metallic hint of old blood. _A slaughterhouse then_, he mused; _perfect_, he thought, as he recalled several horror movies that started out in the same way._

_He heard a metal clang from below and realised that there was an open doorway, with a large, heavy metal door wide open. He assumed it lead into what would have served as the slaughterhouse's cool room where freshly butchered carcasses would be hung up waiting for transportation. He headed towards the doorway before his peripheral vision caught some movement to his right._

_He turned round, and then…_

"Bam," Tony said, and regretted the volume instantly. "Right in my side and that is when I took the trip down the stairs, I guess. I didn't see the face, but I would guess that, judging by the height and build, it was a man; it _could_ have been Henson," Tony said as he recalled the military photograph of their suspect that had stared out at him from a file before the two of them had left for their fun fact-finding mission.

"Don't move," Gibbs ordered the young man, physically restraining him once it was clear that the younger man had no intention of remaining on the floor. "You were thrown down _concrete_ stairs, DiNozzo; who knows what the hell kind of damage you've got hidden inside." He was also worried that Tony didn't remember being shoved down the stairs; there could be some serious head trauma if he hit his head _that_ hard on the concrete floor.

Tony relented, his brief struggle to get upright had hurt and his stomach had almost rebelled; he was quite sure that Gibbs would have one or two things to say about wearing his latest agent's breakfast. He didn't think anything was broken or bleeding internally, but he was too sore and stiff to even think about moving; Gibbs was there, and he trusted the older man to keep any problems at bay while he took a moment to rest his eyes.

He lay back down and closed his eyes, refusing to speak until he was sure that nothing but air would escape his mouth. "Don't you think we should do something about getting out of here?" he eventually asked.

"There is only one door, DiNozzo; we're not going anywhere just yet," Gibbs said with barely concealed anger at the situation and their mystery warden. He had heard the struggle upstairs and had headed back towards the stairs to investigate, gun drawn, only to have DiNozzo thrown down to meet him while the door slammed shut behind.

Gibbs had managed to cover the remaining distance pretty quickly, but he had not been fast enough; the blood oozing from the gash on the side of his head showed that it had not escaped damage during the fall and there might be all manner of internal injuries.

He'd made sure the young man had a pulse before heading up the stairs, ready to chase after their suspect, only to find that the hefty metal door was firmly closed and heavily locked.

"So we're stuck," Tony stated with a sigh as he looked at his Boss with frustration shining clearly in his eyes. Of course they were stuck; nothing could ever be simple, could it!

"We're not stuck, we're waiting," Gibbs corrected his latest team member.

"Waiting for what?" Tony asked, his eyes closing once again as he tried to get comfortable on the cold floor and ignore the banging drum that was repeating the same two notes in his head over and over and over again.

"The cavalry," Gibbs answered. DiNozzo's phone may have been crushed as his body slammed into the concrete floor, but Gibbs' mobile phone was, for once, in perfect working condition and had one bar of service. He'd called NCIS; he didn't know which agent would be heading the rescue mission, but whoever it was had better have thought to bring a paramedic, or at least Ducky.

"You know, your old partner warned me about you and concussions," Gibbs noted dryly. "The one that you got in Baltimore wasn't exactly your fault," he conceded as he thought of his former TAD Agent's rash actions that had resulted in the Detective's injury. "But given that this is the second concussion you've had since we met, I think Jacobs made a pretty valid point; are you going to need a crash helmet for the rest of your career?"

"DiNozzos have hard heads," Tony pointed out glibly.

"Clearly," Gibbs said wryly, taking in the vision of a bruised and dirtied DiNozzo sprawled across the floor at the bottom of the stairs, his head wound still bleeding sluggishly and his eyes closed in an effort to keep pain and nausea at bay.

"I hope the cavalry come soon," Tony sighed, his eyes still firmly closed. "I really need to use the bathroom."

* * *

><p>"Agent DiNozzo, my name is Gary, can you open your eyes for me?" came a voice from above; the man sounded like he was talking to a three year old child. He opened his eyes once he remembered that <em>he<em> was now _Agent_ DiNozzo, only to find himself blinded by some damn light; Tony decided straight away that he and Gary were going to have issues.

"Stop it," he mumbled as he closed his eyes and batted at the offending object.

"DiNozzo, cooperate!" came a firm order from the side. Tony knew that Gibbs was being serious _without_ the slight growl to his voice and he was glad that his eyes were closed so he didn't have to see _just_ how deep the man's scowl was.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" came that same condescending voice from above him.

Tony did open his eyes, glad to find that there was no bright torch being shoved in his face, and glared at the medic; judging by the way the man briefly backed away, his glare was almost as effective as Gibbs' normally was.

"I took a trip down the stairs," Tony pointed out in the same condescending tone the medic had used on him; he thought, given his sprawled out position at the bottom of the stairs _and_ his battered appearance that it was pretty obvious what had happened.

"What did you hit?" the medic asked

"The floor," Tony said unhelpfully.

"DiNozzo!" came a gruff voice from the side while someone else sniggered. Tony turned and saw that Agent Pacci was with Gibbs and the man was clearly finding the whole situation highly amusing.

Gibbs was not.

He wasn't sure if Tony was being deliberately obtuse or whether the man's head injury had shaken up his brain far more than he had originally thought; Gibbs was opting for the former, sure that the younger man's dislike of hospitals extended to any and all medical personnel that were attempting to treat the unwilling patient that he always seemed to be.

"Well it sure as hell wasn't a damn mattress, Gibbs!" Tony ground at as he returned to glaring at the medic. He was glad to see the man had completely backed off, clearly afraid that Tony's bite was much worse than his bark.

"I think he wants to know which part of your _body_ you hit," Pacci said, unable to hide his amusement; it seemed as though the latest Agent of NCIS could be just as surly as the infamous _'second 'b' for bastard'_ Gibbs.

"It's kind of hard to land on only _one_ part of your body when you've been thrown down a flight of concrete steps," Tony pointed out. He _was_ having fun with being deliberately thick-headed, but that didn't stop him from thinking that the questions were ridiculously stupid.

"_I'll_ take him to the hospital!" Gibbs growled with frustration that was intended to be aimed at his wayward new Agent, but that the medic clearly thought was aimed at him.

"I'm _fine_," Tony insisted as he tried to get up, unable to stop the painful grunt from escaping him the moment he tried to sit up as all of his aches and pains reminded him of his fall. Whilst he was certain that the damage had not been severe enough to cause any internal damage, he knew that he was going to suffer some awful bruising where the bat had caught his side; judging by the headache, he certainly had a concussion.

"I wasn't asking, DiNozzo," Gibbs voice was firm even as he gently positioned his new Agent into a more comfortable sitting position.

"Understood, Boss," Tony mumbled through the pain. He _really_ didn't want to go to the hospital, but he knew that there was no point in arguing with a man as stubborn as Gibbs, and he certainly didn't have the strength for it; he was exhausted.

* * *

><p>Tony had been quiet in the car and as Gibbs drove closer towards the hospital, his answers grew more sluggish; the Senior Agent began to worry that he had made the wrong decision in <em>not<em> forcing DiNozzo to go with the paramedics.

"DiNozzo? DiNozzo!" he tried to rouse the younger man but he could get no response beyond an almost inaudible moan, so Gibbs focused on the road and pushed the accelerator pedal down as far as it could go.

The sound of the brakes screeched through the air as he pulled up in the emergency bay, where he yelled at someone on a cigarette break to give him a hand.

It was only when a nurse started talking about _'next of kin'_ that Gibbs felt the first stirrings of panic setting in; he knew from his time in Baltimore that Sam Jacobs, Tony's old partner, had served as next of kin.

Jacobs was an hour away, and Tony was still unconscious and needed medical attention as soon as possible.

After practically threatening the nurse when she refused to believe that _he_ was Tony's next of kin and that the paperwork was still pending, she finally gave in and tearfully went off in search of a doctor who could give Gibbs an update on his latest recruit.

Eventually a doctor appeared, his look of apprehension suggested that the nurse may have warned her about one Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

"Agent Gibbs? I'm Doctor Popov," she offered her hand which Gibbs merely rolled his eyes at; he didn't want formal introductions, he wanted to know what was wrong with DiNozzo.

"DiNozzo?" he demanded. "Is he conscious yet?"

"We've put him at the front of the queue for a CT scan to look for any internal bleeding in the brain and the abdominal region. His pupils are equal and reactive which doesn't seem to suggest any major head trauma, but he hasn't really woken up yet, so we want to make sure there are no underlying problems.

"I performed an abdominal exam on Agent DiNozzo, and _that_ did get a response; it was rather colourful and pretty impressive coming from a semi-conscious man. The bruising is already pretty extensive, but the abdomen isn't rigid, which is a good indicator.

"I noticed in his medical file that he recently underwent surgery to repair damage caused by a GSW to the chest; his body will still be recovering from the trauma of the injury and from the surgery itself. He won't yet be back to full strength, so his general unresponsiveness could simply be the body's way of letting him know that he's doing too much too soon."

"So you _don't_ think there are any internal injuries?" Gibbs asked, trying to get to the crux of the matter.

"I'm concerned about what damage the CT scan might show in the abdominal region; we _may_ need to take another scan at a later date to make sure there isn't a slow bleeder somewhere. There _is_ a bump on his head, but given that his pupils are equal and reactive I would be cautiously optimistic that there is no real danger from any head trauma."

Gibbs tried hard not to roll his eyes; he hated it when doctors used the term _'cautiously optimistic'_ sure that they were being deliberately vague.

"So far it all looks very positive, Agent Gibbs," Doctor Popov tried to reassure the frustrated man in front of her. "Given the medical facts as they seem to be at the moment, I believe that his lack of responsiveness is more to do with sheer exhaustion than injury; we'll double check, of course, but I imagine he'll be awake as soon as his body has had a chance to catch up with the rest of him."

Gibbs nodded and told the Doctor he wanted to be kept updated on DiNozzo's condition and asked to be directed towards the younger man's room, where he could wait while the scan was being done. He then phoned Ducky and, ignoring all of the older man's concerned questions, asked him to find the relevant NCIS paperwork for establishing a next of kin and instructed him to bring it directly to the hospital.

As he settled down into an uncomfortable hospital chair he went over what the Doctor had told him and asked himself whether or not he had let DiNozzo push himself too far?

He knew that the younger man was not yet back to full strength after the shooting in Baltimore, but he seemed to have been managing well enough. Gibbs had raised his concerns with the M.E. about whether or not DiNozzo had been pushing himself too far, but Ducky had seemed to think that the younger man knew his limits.

"Clearly not!" Gibbs muttered angrily to himself.

* * *

><p>Tony was exhausted, even though he sensed that he was emerging from what felt like a very deep sleep; he cracked an eye and found that the splitting pain that had assailed him earlier had reduced to a dull throb and a slight light aversion.<p>

The white walls and the narrow bed, complete with metal guard rails, pretty much told him where he was: the hospital. _Great!_ he thought; his inner monologue did not lose any of the intended sarcasm.

"You awake, DiNozzo?" came a gruff voice from beside him; he turned and instantly recognised the furrowed brows of his new Boss.

"Hi, Gibbs," Tony mumbled, surprised at how much effort those two syllables required.

"How are you feeling, dear boy?" came a voice from the other side and he looked into the kindly eyes of the M.E.

"Hey Doctor Mallard," Tony managed a small smile. "I'm fine."

"Really, Anthony, I must insist; it's Ducky," he offered with a smile of his own, ignoring the incredulous snort that erupted from Jethro at the use of the word _'fine'_. "And I highly doubt you're feeling _'fine'_ as you term it; are you suffering from any double vision? Are you troubled by any abdominal pains?"

"Really, Doctor Mallard, I think it might be better if _I_ ask these questions as his attending physician," came another voice, and Tony began to wonder just who else was in his hospital room. "Mr. DiNozzo, I'm Doctor Popov; I'm going to give you a quick exam. Would you gentlemen please give us a moment?"

Gibbs knew that the Doctor was telling rather than asking, having used the same tone himself many times over; he was all set to tell her where to shove her orders when he noticed the slight relaxing of Tony's shoulder muscles and realised that he'd probably feel more comfortable without an audience, too.

"Sure, come on, Duck, let's go and get another cup of that crap they call coffee in the cafeteria," he nodded to DiNozzo and left, dragging the M.E. out beside him who was firing off a list of things that the Doctor needed to check. "I think she knows her job, Duck," he pointed out wryly.

* * *

><p>"Well, Mr. DiNozzo," the Doctor said after finishing her exam. "There are no signs of any head trauma and although your abdomen is clearly very tender, I think it is likely just deeply bruised. X-rays were all clear and your scans showed no sign of internal injuries, but if the pain shows no sign of decreasing in the next couple of days, then you're going to need to come back in and have another scan, just to make sure we haven't missed anything.<p>

"Otherwise, I think you can go home today," the Doctor offered, smiling as her patient let out a huge sigh of relief. "You do, however, need to take it easy; it's clear to me that your body is still not fully healed from your shooting, so give it some time to rest and _heal_. Don't push yourself, Mr. DiNozzo," she sternly advised him, not in the least bit taken in by his look of contrition and slight nod.

Tony regretted the nod instantly; his brain might not be bleeding, but his head still sure as hell hurt. "I'll be good, Doctor," Tony promised. He had no intention of doing anything differently, but he suspected that Gibbs might have something to say about that; the verbose M.E. was likely to have a lecture planned, too, if _his_ look of consternation was anything to go by.

Regardless, the Doctor had given him the green light and Gibbs couldn't argue with that…could he?

* * *

><p>The trip back from the hospital had been perhaps the slowest Tony had ever seen Gibbs drive; however, the man still managed to achieve several traffic violations.<p>

Ducky had followed behind them in his Morgan, a car that Tony hoped to explore further during their acquaintance. He figured that the M.E.'s presence would mean a further lecture on proper healthcare; he had already received a stern talk from Doctor Popov and Ducky had freely interjected his own advice with a near severe tone that Tony wouldn't have expected from the kindly M.E.

Apparently, when it came to healthcare, Ducky could be as fierce as Gibbs.

They were all sat around Gibbs' kitchen table while the Senior Agent busied himself cooking _'a nutritionally balanced meal that would encourage the healing process'_ as ordered by Ducky. The Doctor was going over Tony's prescription and explaining the reason behind the pills and the creams that were to help with his pain levels and the bruising.

The silence was broken when Gibbs placed a few sheets of paper and a pen in front of Tony with an expectant look on his face: "You need to sign this," he said gruffly and without further explanation.

"What is it?" Tony asked when he realised that the Senior Agent was not going to tell him unless prompted. He discovered that trying to focus on the writing was too tiring and trying to lift an arm to reach for it and bring it closer required more effort than he could manage.

"Official documents," Gibbs said in the same tone Tony had used earlier with the medic trying to help him, his eyes narrowing further as if he was trying to accomplish his very own CT scan with his blue orbs.

Tony simply raised an eyebrow; he knew exactly why Gibbs had chosen to use _that_ tone and nodded his head in as he conceded the reason with a wry grin, completely unrepentant for his earlier actions.

"Ask a stupid question expect a stupid answer," he shrugged, still grinning at the Senior Agent who returned a pale imitation of a smile, but a smile nonetheless.

"They're forms for your next of kin," Gibbs informed him, quickly losing his faint smile as he knew that DiNozzo would not be happy with what he would have to say. "In your official paperwork for NCIS you left your next of kin listed as Sam Jacobs; I know he was your partner and that the two of you are still friends, DiNozzo, but he's at least an hour away over in Baltimore."

"Less than an hour away when _you're_ driving," Tony mumbled, unable to contain the dig despite the melancholic turn his thoughts had taken. He knew that his job came with risk, but he wasn't sure whether or not he felt comfortable replacing Sam as his point of contact; Sam had been the first person since his college days that had taken any interest in his safety and happiness. The man had done so much for Tony, and he already felt as though he had abandoned his former partner.

"_This_ time it wasn't serious," Gibbs stressed, ignoring the uncharacteristic snort that came from his old friend.

"_Not serious? Really, Jethro; the man has a concussion and a multitude of other injuries and you do not have the necessary years of medical training to make such a claim. Your _'gut'_ as you term it, may serve you well in your job, but I can assure you, you do not have the medical experience to give you any kind of reliable gut feelings in regards to medical care and the severity of injuries sustained…"_ Ducky's rambling monologue was quiet and not really directed at the Senior Agent, but he was quite happy to continue his near inaudible rant as he listed any and all possible complications that could occur with injuries like Tony's.

"Next time you end up in hospital, and I figure that with someone who attracts as much trouble as you do that the next visit will not be too far away, I don't want to risk waiting for over an hour while Jacobs makes his way down from Baltimore to sign a consent form.

"I want you to list the name of someone here in DC," Gibbs said, trying to gauge DiNozzo's emotions by looking into his eyes and searching for a distraction. Tony's poker face held; it seemed to him that DiNozzo was already accomplished at hiding his true feelings if he felt the situation warranted it.

"I…er…can I think about it?" Tony asked as he took the forms from Gibbs, refusing eye contact once he had the sheets of paper in his hands. He knew that it was a sensible request but he had no idea who he could possibly put down; he didn't really know anyone very well in DC yet.

Gibbs would have preferred to get a name and address on those forms as soon as possible, but a rather stern look from Ducky persuaded him that his patience might be the wisest course of action.

"Now then, my boy," Ducky began and Tony knew that the lecture was imminent; he tried his best to stop a sigh. "We need to have a word about your understanding of basic healthcare…"

* * *

><p>Ducky's stern admonishment about Tony's seeming lack of concern in regards to his own health lasted well into the night and the younger man's plaintive looks towards his Boss paid off when Gibbs ordered him up to bed. Tony never thought he'd be grateful for an enforced bedtime, but as Ducky's tirade showed no signs of ending he was more than thankful for the reprieve.<p>

It was nice to know that Ducky was so concerned with his welfare; before Sam he had rarely had that much concern directed solely at him.

His father had spent most of Tony's childhood doing his level best to ignore his only child, passing him off into someone else's hands: the maids, expensive boarding schools and eventually Rhode Island Military Academy in a last ditch effort to avoid his parental responsibilities.

His friends at Ohio State had been fun and exciting and over the years a few deep friendships had emerged between the former frat buddies; during their college years, however, more concern was directed towards whether or not everyone was whole and healthy enough to win their next match.

During his time at the Police Academy the instructors cared only enough to make sure that their own backs were covered; they had hundreds of cadets passing through every year and they could not afford the time to get to know each and every one of them.

Peoria had seen him paired up with a good cop, but Brooks had been a man who was on the point of retirement; the city was a relatively quiet one and during Tony's days of chasing down traffic violators and walking his beat, their relationship never evolved past the point of work. Brooks had been counting down the days until he could devote his time wholeheartedly to his vegetable patch and Tony had been an excited Rookie, eager to prove himself.

Philadelphia saw him being placed with Danvers; the man might not have been a dirty cop on the Cartel's payroll, but he had sure as hell tried to make Tony's life miserable. Rookies were supposed to get a rough deal, but Tony had two years under his belt by then and was _still_ being doubted for his intentions. Danvers left him to deal with the paperwork, any and all problems with the Brass and used Tony as his own personal errand boy.

Sam and Baltimore had changed all of that. While the majority of the Police Department seemed intent on focusing upon his name and his origins, there had been a few who were prepared to look beyond rumour and presumption.

Once Tony had proved to Sam that he was not some clueless kid who bought his Detective's badge, there had grown between them a successful working relationship. Sam had managed to find the time and patience to teach Tony what he could and try to find a better instructor if he felt he was ill-qualified.

Eventually, the two began to meet up _outside_ of the 22nd Precinct; Sam welcomed him into his home and invited Tony to share Christmas with him and his daughter, Cathy. Sam had fast become one of Tony's closet friends; the man understood him on a level that Tony was normally uncomfortable with, but couldn't find it within himself to be concerned about it.

Sam had done something for Tony that no one else had ever tried to do; he had given Tony a family. It was not _his_ family, but it was still a feeling of belonging that Tony treasured.

It was clear that both Ducky and Abby were concerned about him, if the way they clucked over his welfare was any indicator; he was still not wholly comfortable with that kind of attention, but he appreciated the sentiment behind it.

Gibbs was harder to fathom.

He knew that Gibbs was a former Marine, and as such as man who likely valued loyalty and brotherhood. However, the man was anything but social; he was terse and impatient and sometimes a little more forceful with his head-slaps than necessary. The man clearly wanted his team to be responsible for their own actions but he was more discreet about it that his former Captain had been; working alongside Gibbs in Baltimore, Tony had received several rules and a couple of dressing-downs in private for some wrong he had apparently committed.

Gibbs didn't seem in the least bit perturbed by the fact that his team consisted of a man who had yet to receive his Special Agent status, and an absent Blackadder; in fact, Gibbs didn't seem to miss his Agent in the slightest, and Tony didn't know what that said about his new Boss _or_ his new teammate.

He remembered that in Baltimore Gibbs had seemed far more eager to work with Tony and Sam than his own agents, despite their earlier problems; he had eagerly taken advantage of the situation when Nixon screwed up and fired him with barely concealed satisfaction.

Tony had heard the rumours about Gibbs' infamous inability to keep a team together; he had heard that one man, Burley, had managed five years under Gibbs before high-tailing it to the seas, never to be heard from again…or so the story goes.

There seemed to be very little concern for his so-called team.

And yet…

Tony understood that feeling; he had stood by Danvers through all sorts in Philadelphia because the man had been his partner, but when the Cartel mess shit hit the fan, he did no more for Danvers than he would have done for any other cop.

Tony had seen the way Gibbs treated the eccentric Forensic Scientist; with small but patient smiles, he exhibited a great deal of care towards the younger woman that was always clear in his actions if not his words.

The Senior Agent showed an uncharacteristically long streak of patience when dealing with the verbose Medical Examiner; it was clear that the two men had known each other a long time and Tony had been pleased to hear some of Ducky's more pointed comments in the lecture being directed at Gibbs. Tony could not imagine the stoic Marine taking criticism and advice from anyone as easily as he seemed to allow from Ducky.

From the way the Senior Agent sometimes acted, Tony felt as though he was being allowed entrance into a very exclusive club; he didn't think that Gibbs was the type of person to readily welcome everyone he came across into his life, but Tony was beginning to suspect that he may well be working towards earning a backstage pass. He doubted that he'd ever have the VIP pass that Abby and Ducky seemed to have, but he was _starting_ to believe that he could have a home in DC with these people.

"Sleep well, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked as the younger man shuffled towards the kitchen table.

Tony grunted in response; the night had been a long one as he quickly discovered that he was unable to find any position that did not put pressure on one of his many aches and pains.

"Coffee?" Gibbs offered, pushing the sugar towards his latest recruit; they were still learning about each other, but Gibbs had quickly surmised that DiNozzo had a sweet tooth. His watchful eyes caught the way the younger man carefully eased himself into his seat, unable to conceal the slight grimace as the movement pulled on his heavily bruised abdomen.

While he did not like that DiNozzo had been injured on his watch, he was slightly grateful for the reprieve it gave him; there was no way DiNozzo could go off on one of his runs in that condition, although Gibbs would not put it past the stubborn young man to at least attempt it.

The injury had also caused Tony to relax his wardrobe for the first time since arriving at NCIS. The suit was gone and replaced with a casual button down shirt and a zip-up hoodie; both items that Tony wouldn't have to struggle painfully into. His trousers were baggy track-suit bottoms that were a little loose around the waist, ensuring that there was not additional pressure on the bruising.

Gibbs doubted that the relax in dress was anything to do with Tony's professional comfort levels, but clearly the younger man felt as though he needed _some_ degree of comfort.

The fact that it was a Sunday would mean there were no classes for Tony to attend at FLETC, but they _were_ supposed to be working a case. Gibbs was going to have to go into the Navy Yard, and as much as he didn't like it, DiNozzo was going to have to go, too.

'_Ducky is going to bust a gut when he sees DiNozzo in the bullpen,'_ Gibbs thought to himself.

"You eat that," Gibbs ordered the younger man as he pushed a cooked breakfast in front of the younger man. "I'm going to clean up and then we should get going."

Tony did not protest; he ached all over, his stomach particularly hurt like hell, but he didn't want to leave the case to go cold while he huddled up in a comfortable bed. If it _was_ Henson who was in that barn, then the man was going to regret it!

* * *

><p>"You brought him to work? Really, Jethro!" Ducky admonished the Senior Agent. "He might not have suffered any major injuries, but his body <em>has<em> still suffered; he will undoubtedly still be feeling the aftereffects of his concussion and the pain from the bruising, especially across his abdomen, will demand that any and all movement be limited."

"What do you want me to do, Duck?" Gibbs asked, exasperation leaking through. "We're working an active case, and every minute that we're not chasing down leads Henson gets further away; I'm not dragging DiNozzo out into the field, but I need his eyes and his mind trying to track Henson down, right here, from the safety of his desk."

Ducky knew that his old friend would not allow young Anthony to go out into the field in his condition; despite the glares and the grumbles, it was clear that Jethro had come to care for the young man. Baltimore had started with little more than irritation and intrigue, but Jethro had quickly come to value Detective DiNozzo and the Senior Agent had broken one of his own rules: Rule 10, never get personally involved in a case.

The Detective had helped Jethro solve the case, and when he had been injured on a case that had nothing to do with NCIS, the Senior Agent had stayed in Baltimore to look after the younger man; Jethro had set up a protection detail with himself cast as the only guard.

Since Anthony had arrived in DC, Gibbs had been the one to offer him a place to stay; the Senior Agent had taken the time to make sure he was eating properly, he had hounded Ducky to look for a competent physiotherapist who would be able to keep Anthony in line, and he had taken time out of his days to drive the young man to and from his courses at FLETC.

Ducky couldn't remember Jethro ever being as involved in any of his Agents' lives as he seemed to be with his latest recruit's; even Stan Burley, who had lasted going on five years with Gibbs, had never caused the frustration and concern that Anthony seemingly manages to incite within seconds in the usually stoic leader.

"Very well, Jethro," Ducky acquiesced, aware that his friend's actions indicated that he would do everything he could to keep the younger man safe if he could. "But I want to be made aware if anything about his condition changes, and I want you to make sure he eats a properly nutritious and balanced lunch; I will have more than a few words to say if I find out that he has either skipped lunch altogether, or has sated his appetite with _another_ box of pizza."

Gibbs shook his head in disbelief as he headed back to the bullpen; Ducky could be quite stern when he wanted to be and his pointed comments usually gained more venom as his eyebrows went higher, even if his voice remained quiet and even. But Gibbs could not remember having received quite so many orders from the older man in quite so short an amount of time; Tony, it seemed, brought out the Doctor in Ducky.

"You need help with that?" Gibbs asked as he saw his latest recruit bending down to heave a box of files onto his desk; the grimace and the careful way he was holding himself indicated that Tony was suffering from more than just discomfort.

"You offering?" Tony asked as he tried to supress a groan of pain and iron out the lines he knew would be masking his forehead.

"Not unless you're asking?" Gibbs replied. He didn't like knowing that DiNozzo was hurting, but he also needed the younger man to know that he was going to have to start asking for help when he needed it. Gibbs might think of an apology as a sign of weakness, but knowing when your body needed a break was just common sense.

"Then I'm not asking," Tony answered. He was feeling pretty rotten; not only did he hurt like hell, but so far he had made anything but a good impression to the one man who had gone above and beyond in his attempts to get Tony his Special Agent status.

"These have just been sent over from Henson's CO," Tony informed his Boss, unable to hide the sigh as he managed to drop the box onto his desk. "I wanted all personnel files on Henson's closest buddies from the Corps; and I asked for any files concerning disciplinary action or times that complaints were made but not carried through. I thought we might get an idea of who would be the best person to know where Henson might go," he shrugged.

It was a long shot; the kind of files he had in the box were the ones not deemed relevant enough to type up and enter into one of the many military databases. However, Tony was in no shape to chase down leads in the field, so he was going to be stuck looking for a paper trail.

Henson's financials were being sent to him and the SSgt's personnel files had already been combed through by both Tony and Gibbs and so far those had provided little more than the address for an abandoned farm, that contained little more than a disused abattoir and dust covered photographs.

Suddenly he got an idea.

"If someone makes their own log cabin, is there some kind of database that would house the address?" Tony asked.

"There should be some evidence of ownership for tax purposes, I suspect," Gibbs answered, wondering what had caught DiNozzo's attention. "If the Henson family bought the land, there should be a record of the deed somewhere."

"In the farmhouse, there wasn't much of anything except a whole hell of a lot of dust, some broken furniture and several old photos. A few of the photos were of the same log cabin, and Henson was in them with who I assume must be his parents."

"It _is_ worth a try," Gibbs offered. "If the Henson family bought the land, there should be a record of the deed somewhere, so we might be able to get a location from the Land Registry Office."

"If not, Abby can triangulate a rough location using landmarks in the background, right?" Tony asked, getting slightly excited at the chance of a possible lead. "There was one photo that had what looked like Bearfence Mountain in the background, which is in the Shenandoah National Park. So we have a rough area already."

Tony had done quite a lot of outdoor activities with his frat buddies during his college years, and one of his friends had a particular partiality towards climbing; together they had explored several different areas of the Appalachian Mountains, but Tony had never imagined that knowledge would ever help him solve a case.

"Phone the Land Registry Office; I'll find a team to go out and bag the photographs," Gibbs nodded his agreement. A log cabin in the middle of a heavily wooded area would be a quiet and secluded place for a suspect to hide; this did indeed feel like a potential lead. "Good job, DiNozzo."

Tony smiled. Maybe he hadn't messed things up too badly then.

"Ow!" he rubbed the back of his head. The head-slap had lacked its usual force, but while the aftereffects of the concussion were dissipating, his head was still feeling more than a little sensitive.

"Quit day-dreaming and get to work, DiNozzo," Gibbs ordered the younger man as he headed towards the elevator. "You've got a job to do."

"Taking advantage," Tony grumbled as he reached for the phone. "Slapping a concussed man…"

* * *

><p><em><strong>There we go…Tony's first active case for NCIS might actually have an end in sight. <strong>_

_**SSgt – Staff Sergeant.**_

_**CT – Computed Tomography (medical scan used to look for bruises and internal bleeding or irregularities).  
><strong>_

_**GSW – Gun-shot wound.**_

_**CO – Commanding Officer.**_

_**Next up – Morrow meets DiNozzo in person and watches him interact with Team Gibbs. The two-man team gain ground on Henson and Tony learns the value of Rule 22, although thankfully through someone else.**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Thanks once again for all the reviews/messages; as always, they are much appreciated.**_

_**Sorry for the slight delay in posting this!**_

_**Tony is feeling left behind, but when Gibbs returns from the field he learns the value of Rule 22 and meets the Director of NCIS.**_

* * *

><p>Tony was feeling pretty rotten; the effects of his concussion had slowly dissipated throughout the day, but instead he was stuck feeling the effects of leafing through too much paperwork.<p>

He had found the parcel of land near the Shenandoah National Park; the Henson family had bought it many years ago to build their own hunting cabin. It was only a few acres, but the area was thick with trees and the uneven landscape, criss-crossed with streams and rivers and trails could be problematic for anyone who did not know the terrain.

Gibbs had left with Agent Pacci and the rest of the younger man's team to go and explore the land; hoping that with numbers and the element of surprise they could get the drop on Henson.

Tony knew that Gibbs needed to act on the information as quickly as possible so that Henson didn't have a chance to escape, but he still didn't like the idea of not being there to watch his six. Gibbs was a trained Marine, and a Scout Sniper at that; the man was highly skilled and he should excel at sneaking through unfamiliar terrain with no problems whatsoever. Still, Tony didn't like being forced out of the action; no matter how well trained his new partner might be, it was _his_ duty to watch Gibbs' back.

He was sifting through Henson's financials, which had finally arrived. They were pretty sure that Henson was part of the smuggling ring, but they needed more than a few damning witness statements and a UA charge if he was to serve the proper sentence. Tony was looking for evidence in the man's accounts; he hoped to find more money than a man of Henson's rank should earn.

He'd been staring at numbers for so long he began to doubt whether or not he'd recognise another letter, even if it was enlarged and spelled out to him. The only break he'd had was lunch; Ducky had brought him a large sandwich, complete with salad and low-fat butter. Tony appreciated the concern towards his health and dietary habits, but he would much rather go without the scrutiny and enjoy a good slice of pizza.

The quiet _'ding' _of the elevator garnered his attention and he saw Gibbs and Pacci flanking a cuffed Henson; the SSgt had a bruise growing across his jaw that suggested he didn't go down without a fight, but Tony could see no sign of injury on any of the NCIS Agents that trailed out of the elevator. He gave a sigh of relief and released a deep breath that he didn't even know he had been holding.

Gibbs nodded Pacci towards the interview rooms, gesturing for him to take Henson there for questioning; the younger man knew Gibbs well enough to know that no one but the Senior Agent would be conducting the interview.

He looked towards DiNozzo and noted the careful way in which he got to his feet; it was clear that the man was still hurting, and having seen the level of bruising it was hardly surprising.

The former Detective was normally quite lithe in his movements, despite his tall stature, but the careful positioning of his arms suggested his shoulder was causing him discomfort and the way he kept on shifting his weight from one foot to the other indicated pain there, too.

From the way he had fallen down the steps, Gibbs figured the younger man had to have bruised his hips pretty badly; DiNozzo had only made mention of his head injury once since leaving the hospital.

"Thank God you're back," Tony sighed in relief. "I really hate digging through financials; too many numbers. Plus, look," Tony waved a hand in front of Gibbs face, daring to invade the stern man's personal space. "Paper cuts…two of them; I got a little salad dressing in them earlier and let me tell you something, Gibbs, it stung like hell!"

Gibbs raised an eyebrow at the younger man's antics; DiNozzo had all but shot his way out of the hospital after being hit in the gut and sent tumbling down a flight of concrete stairs, bruising just about every inch of skin and earning himself yet another concussion. The most reaction DiNozzo gave in relation to those injuries was a bout of semi-consciousness and a strong reluctance to be of any help whatsoever to the medical staff who were trying to help him.

Here he was, still clearly aching all over and desperately trying to hide his discomfort, carefully nursing an invisible paper cut with far more care and attention than he had ever seemed to bestow upon any of his more serious injuries.

Gibbs doubted whether anything would ever be logical and predictable when it came to his latest recruit.

"I'm going to interview Henson," Gibbs informed him. "There's an observation room; you can watch from there." He turned on his heel and left, heading with silent anticipation towards his waiting suspect.

Tony had to stop a moment and absorb what had just been said; Gibbs was doing an interview and the man _didn't_ want him in on it, after what that bastard Henson had done to him? He also realised that he shouldn't be surprised; a man with as many control issues as Gibbs clearly had, would probably take the lead on most, if not _all_ interviews.

At least he would never have to spend his career at NCIS worrying over who would be playing the _'bad cop'_ with Gibbs conducting the interviews; that role was permanently cast.

He followed Gibbs at a more sedate pace, careful to avoid any long strides that might pull on the mottled bruising that covered his right hip.

* * *

><p>The observation room was clearly marked and he entered it to find Agent Pacci standing by the glass panel and a lone Tech there, working the machines and trying to ensure a quick copy of the interview's transcript.<p>

It was no wonder Gibbs expected every piece of information to fall into his hands so quickly; he worked for NCIS, which had much better funding and efficiency than Baltimore PD could ever hope for, and he had a Forensic Scientist who seemed to dedicate most of her caffeine-highs speeding through evidence for his cases alone.

With all of the money that went into Federal Agencies, it would take Tony some time to get used to the speed at which a case could progress. Baltimore PD was full of hard working men and women, but the funds simply could not meet the demands of their busy caseloads; some people were still typing out their reports on type-writers, for Christ's sake!

"Hey," he greeted Pacci with a small smile; the kindly Agent had been one of the few to resist judging him by his name and his image.

"Come to enjoy the show?" Pacci asked with amusement as he watched Henson do his best to focus on anything but Agent Gibbs.

"I hope," Tony grinned as he too noticed the suspect squirming with discomfort and fear. He nodded towards the Tech with a smile, eager not to alienate anyone so shortly into his time at the Agency, before focussing on the interview. He had done an interrogation with Gibbs back in Baltimore, but Tony thought that it would be interesting to watch the man in action without having to worry about schooling his own features.

"Staff Sergeant," Gibbs said quietly as he perused a file that Tony knew for a fact the Senior Agent knew inside and out. His voice was quiet and calm; he could be reading from a grocery list for all the concern he was showing. "That's a respectable rank for someone your age."

Gibbs had yet to look at the anxious man in front of him. "You've seen more than your fair share of active duty, but you've never suffered any serious injuries. You have several commendations, and the praise of your immediate COs; there are a few disciplinary issues, but nothing too bad." Gibbs stopped reading the file and looked at Henson with what Tony called the _'Deathly X-Ray Glare'_.

The _'Deathly X-Ray Glare'_ was _the_ look; a look that Gibbs had given Tony many times over since he had arrived in DC. It was a look that clearly stated _'I don't believe a word you just said'_ even when Tony was forced to pull out a sincere tone and a mask of innocence that had convinced countless others. It was a look that read every thought, no matter how brief, as they flitted across his anxious mind. It was a look that said Gibbs knew he was full of shit.

To see that he used that look on the criminal suspects that passed through the Agency as well as on his own people…well, Tony couldn't exactly say that the idea made him feel all warm and fuzzy.

"In fact, there is absolutely nothing in your file to suggest that you would be behind a major smuggling ring being run right out of Norfolk," the Senior Agent's voice had grown a little sterner, but had not risen in volume. Tony couldn't see Gibbs, but he could well imagine the burning intensity of those crystal blue eyes as they seared Henson with an unflinching gaze.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Henson insisted with more confidence than his body language suggested. The _'Deathly X-Ray Glare'_ must have returned and stepped up a gear because Henson physically flinched, pushing back into his seat as though it would offer him some form of protection from the severe looking NCIS Agent. Tony shook his head at the rookie error; how the hell had no one caught the guy when he was such an abysmal liar?

"Bullshit!" Gibbs shouted as he slammed the table for effect; Henson jumped at the sudden rise in volume and the sheer physicality of the Senior Agent's actions. Having reached all sorts of conclusions about the man in front of him, Henson no longer tried to avoid looking at Gibbs; instead, he would not focus on anything else.

Tony was distracted from the show by Pacci's mobile phone ringing; _'I've got to take this' _the Agent mouthed silently before exiting the room. "Too bad for him; it's just getting to the good part," Tony said to the Tech, who smiled at the man's infectious enthusiasm.

"I know that you're involved, Henson; we've got all the evidence we need to put you away in Leavenworth," Gibbs paused, waiting for that little titbit to sink in. "However, like I said, your file hardly reads like it belongs to a criminal mastermind; if you give me what I need, then maybe I can get your sentence reduced. The Marine Corps Brig at Quantico is a hell of a lot nicer than Leavenworth," he added as an incentive.

Henson finally stopped watching the Agent's hands and dedicated every ounce of his being to figuring out what he could do to save himself. Leavenworth would mean a _minimum_ of a five year sentence, whereas the Brig at Quantico would likely mean less than five years.

Leavenworth had a hellish reputation, and for good reason. The United States Disciplinary Barracks at Fort Leavenworth was a maximum security facility full of trained soldiers from all branches of the military; the fight for the position of Alpha-Dog had little to do with the gang culture that permeated the civilian institutes and everything to do with proving who had the best training and the greatest will to use it.

"I, er…" Henson stopped himself from giving it all away. "What guarantees do I have?"

"None," Gibbs shrugged. "I can see about getting something in writing," he acquiesced. He was not normally so amenable, but it was clear that Henson was not at the top of the organisation. The man would still do time and the Marine Corps would no doubt give the man a dishonourable discharge, but Henson could help catch the real ring-leaders and close down the smuggling business that had already led to one foolish Marine's death.

Tony's attention was once more called away from the interview when someone opened the door; thinking it was Pacci he turned to greet the man with a smile and a wry observation about the questioning, only to find himself facing a stranger.

"Hi, I'm sorry, this area is off limits to civilians," Tony politely informed the man as soon as he noticed the man's badge that branded him a _'Visitor'_.

Curiously, the man's attention was not upon either of the other two occupants of the room; his gaze was fixed firmly upon the two men on the other side of the glass. Tony looked at the Tech to try and see if he had any clues, but judging from the furrowed brows and one-shouldered shrug, he had no idea about the man's identity either.

"Excuse me, sir," Tony said a little louder as he stepped towards the stranger in an effort to gain the man's full attention.

"Yes, sorry," the man said, finally tearing his gaze away from the interview and not sounding sorry in the slightest. "I need to talk to my client," he nodded towards the interview room.

"Staff Sergeant Henson has been informed of his rights and so far, he has refused the right to counsel," Tony informed him, still walking towards the man to try and usher him out of the observation room. "Who called you?" he asked curiously.

"I really must insist on meeting with my client before this interview goes any further," the stranger said as he finally backed out of the room, only to head towards the interview room.

"Sir, I can't let you interrupt the interview," Tony insisted, sure that the disruption would be placed squarely on his shoulders. "SSgt Henson knows his rights and he hasn't asked for a lawyer," Tony pointed out, once again wondering how the hell the man was at NCIS if no one had called for his services.

The lawyer took no notice of Tony and shook off the former Detective's hand that was gently trying to restrain him in an effort to save both the lawyer and himself from the Wrath of Gibbs that was sure to be unleashed if the interview was interrupted at such a vital stage.

"Now look here," the lawyer started out in a severe tone as he entered the interview room, convinced that he could use his job and the words _'due process'_ to scare the NCIS Agent into following along with his ploy; then he actually looked at the Agent.

"Sorry, Boss," Tony said, sounding truly sorry for what the interruption might cost him. "I tried to tell him, but…well…I think he has a death wish."

DiNozzo was lucky.

If there was one thing Gibbs hated more than a lack of coffee and interrupted interviews, it was lawyers.

"Rule 13, DiNozzo," Gibbs explained when he registered the younger man's look of utter shock at not being immediately reamed out. "You remember that one?"

Tony nodded; it was one of many rules that Tony had heard over the few days he had worked alongside Gibbs, but it was one that was emphatically spat out by the man, leaving Tony in no doubt about the Senior Agent's views of the profession. Rule 13: never _ever_ involve lawyers.

"Good, you're about to learn another," Gibbs informed his latest recruit, despite the fact that his narrowed gaze never left the gulping lawyer in the doorway. "Rule 22: never _ever_ bother me in interrogation. Ever!"

"Got it," Tony said, nodding fervently and feeling supremely happy that he had discovered the importance of Rule 22 through someone else's misfortune.

"We've informed SSgt Henson of his rights and he has so far refused the right to counsel; that means he _hasn't_ asked for a lawyer, which means _you've_ got absolutely no reason whatsoever to be here.

"Henson, you know your rights; do you want this guy to help you?" Gibbs hated having to ask, but he knew that he had to allow for due process.

The SSgt had fixated on the lawyer the moment the man had burst into the room and Gibbs was sure that there was a story to the look of utter trepidation that leaked into the man's expression; a Marine who had reached the rank of Staff Sergeant and had the level of combat experience that Henson had earned should not be so easily spooked by one wiry looking lawyer.

"I, er…yeah. Yeah, I want to talk to him," Henson managed to sputter, although he sounded as though he wanted anything but.

The lawyer released a small but triumphant _'ha'_ before realising that exhibiting his smugness in front of one Special Agent Gibbs was not the best way to go.

Gibbs grabbed the file and what remained of his coffee and stalked out of the interview room with DiNozzo close behind.

Gibbs was internally spewing out every foul four letter word he could think of as he thought about how close they had come to getting Henson to co-operate. The SSgt had been about to agree to the deal, and then a lawyer had to come into the mix. Divorce was enough to elicit an intense dislike towards the legal profession; law enforcement brought its own just as valid reasons.

"Rule 13, DiNozzo; learn it well!" Gibbs ordered the younger man as he stalked away to the elevator; he needed to leave the building and find himself another cup of coffee in an effort to try and resist pulling his gun on the smug idiot back in interrogation.

* * *

><p>Tony was sat at his desk once more going over financial records and the files sent over from Norfolk, trying to find some evidence to tie Henson to the money; that Henson might only be one cog in the wheel meant that tracing the money would be that much harder as the large amounts of money gained through the deals would be divided up into smaller sums to pay everyone involved.<p>

Tony was reading through another bank statement and wondering when the hell Blackadder would be back from her case with the FBI, when he felt someone's gaze burning into his back. He looked around and saw no one watching him, but after a moment's hesitation he looked up towards the balcony that ran between MTAC and the Director's office. Sure enough, Director Morrow was there, watching Tony with the slightest hint of frustration marring his expression.

Tony had yet to meet the man who had the final say as to whether or not he would be able to join NCIS, but he knew from Abby that the Director was keeping a closer eye on his progress at FLETC than on anyone else; Tony didn't like the idea of being under such close scrutiny, especially from someone so far up the Agency ladder, but he also realised that the avid attention was as much to do with Gibbs' selection process as it was to do with Tony.

He tried to ignore the man and return his attention to Henson's known associates, trying to find someone who fit the profile of a black marketer. There were a few disciplinary files that suggested some of his buddies from the Corps that had a certain degree of moral flexibility, but Tony knew that he would need some more concrete evidence if he wanted any potential warrants signed off by a judge.

The elevator brought his attention to Gibbs' arrival and he breathed a sigh of relief; paperwork had never been his favourite pastime, no matter how necessary it could be, and he would appreciate any help Gibbs might offer.

Gibbs noticed the way DiNozzo sagged in relief at his arrival and hid a smile; he knew what it was like to be mired in the monotony that was paperwork. He placed a large cup of tea in front of the younger man, having remembered that he preferred it to coffee, and ignored the mild look of shock and the stuttered _'thanks'_ that escaped from DiNozzo's mouth; after all, it was in Gibbs' own interest to keep his Agent on the ball.

The Senior Agent also observed the way Morrow was watching the younger man. Gibbs knew that the Director was still unsure of his choice, but he wished the man could be a little less obvious about it; DiNozzo had enough people doubting him within the walls of NCIS, and he definitely didn't need to add the Director to the mix.

"Where are we, DiNozzo?" he asked, heading over to the younger man's desk so he could see what he was focusing on. Gibbs was choosing to ignore the Director for now; no doubt the man would make him presence known when he wanted to do so.

"Nowhere," Tony surmised succinctly. "There _is_ evidence of a couple of Henson's friends being less than squeaky clean, but nothing solid…nothing that would get us a warrant to do any further digging.

"Henson's financials show us nothing even remotely useful, but if he is low man on the totem pole in this little racket then the money he gets could easily be hidden away in small sums and away from the banks; so we're unlikely to be able to back-trace the finances.

"The search on the cabin turned up some more damning evidence with a couple of crates of weaponry, but only as far as Henson is concerned; no one else had been raised as a suspect, although Abby is combing through the evidence to see if she can find that missing link."

Gibbs sighed; he had been afraid of that. Henson had been prepared to give them something, perhaps even everything, but the lawyer's appearance had clearly spooked him. He was about to suggest looking into that when DiNozzo carried on speaking.

"I've done some digging around about our friend, the lawyer, Brian Parks. He graduated from a local community college and mostly deals with civil cases, so that got me wondering: what is he doing with Henson and what is clearly a criminal case?"

"You come up with any conclusions?" Gibbs asked once it was clear the younger man was not going to continue.

"Not yet," Tony shrugged. He was relatively unconcerned, as it hadn't even been an hour since he had first started looking into Parks; once everyone he had contacted got back to him, _then_ he could start to worry if they still had not uncovered anything.

"Do I even want to know how many cups you've had today?" Tony asked, amused at the two cups that sat on Gibbs' desk, just waiting to be drunk. "I mean, I get that trying to separate you and caffeine would be the last mistake I would ever make, but even so, I think you might have Abby beat for caffeine intake."

"Have you seen the size of her Caff-Pows?" Gibbs asked incredulously. He could never understand why his coffee intake was a subject of such interest; back in Baltimore, DiNozzo had found the courage that most of Gibbs' own agents seemed to lack, and had mocked him almost constantly.

"She only has one at a time," Tony pointed out with a knowing grin.

Gibbs rolled his eyes; it seemed as though DiNozzo and Abby's sense of humour would mean that they were going to be able to play off each other and cause double the normal amount of bemusement either one of them could manage on their own.

"DiNozzo, get back to work," Gibbs told his Agent as he slapped him softly on the back of his head and headed back to his own desk to dig up what he could on Brian Parks and figure out who told him NCIS had Henson in custody.

* * *

><p>Morrow had been watching Gibbs' protégée work; he had read many a varied account of DiNozzo and he had no idea what to believe; the former Detective seemed to be as much of a conundrum to his former places of employment as his current one.<p>

Baltimore had been a wide and varied mixture of good _and_ bad, with commendations filed on top of reprimands. Philadelphia was similar, with one report from DiNozzo's Watch Captain describing an incredibly elaborate hoax the young man had played on his partner; oddly enough, the Watch Captain's report had sounded more proud than upset at his Officer's successful and inventive antics. Only Peoria had been consistent in its contents, and that was no doubt more to do with DiNozzo trying to prove his competency not only to his fellow officers, but to himself.

Tom had heard various snippets of information about the young man since he had arrived at NCIS; the scuttlebutt seemed to be almost entirely about Gibbs' latest addition.

However, Morrow had not reached the position of Director simply by knowing the right people; he was an astute man who knew how to work the system and read the people that operated within it.

One of the things Morrow liked most about Gibbs was the fact that the Senior Agent was not one for beating around the bush; if the man was pissed off, he was more than happy to let you know it and the reasons behind it all. After a career spent wading through a whole load of political bullshit, an impolitic but completely honest _'fuck you'_ could be quite welcome.

He had come to trust Gibbs and his infamous _'gut feelings'_, which had helped Gibbs to achieve the highest case-closure rate in the Agency; he relied upon Gibbs' knowledge and experience to help him figure out tactics surrounding a few of the more complicated missions NCIS were tasked with in the wider world. It was for those reasons that Morrow had allowed Gibbs the liberty to form his own team.

Gibbs' record alone showed that he had been not only a gifted Marine, but a highly capable CO, too. It had been highly frustrating, therefore, to see the man struggle to keep a team together; Morrow knew that the man had exacting standards, but apparently not one single Agent who had managed to complete the courses at FLETC met them.

Allowing Gibbs free reins in the formation of his team would not only spare Morrow the headache of filing yet _more_ personnel requisition forms, but the Director also hoped that it would mean Gibbs could keep a team together for more than a few months. Nixon had been gone in the blink of an eye, and Morrow knew that if Gibbs could have his way, Blackadder would have followed Nixon out of the door. Stan Burley had lasted the longest so far, but even he had come begging for reassignment.

Gibbs being granted the rare concession of forming his own team would doubtlessly bring with it problems, and Morrow was sure he would quickly find out each and every one of those issues, but he figured it was at least worth a shot.

That Gibbs had found someone so quickly had been a bit surprising and that he had found someone that was in no way, shape or form related to the Agency or even the Military had been even more so. Morrow had had more than a few requests from various Agents to be transferred to Gibbs' well-renowned team, and those requests had been forwarded to the Senior Agent and ignored.

Baltimore Homicide Detective Anthony DiNozzo had somehow managed to prove himself to the stoic Marine Scout Sniper, and Gibbs had yet to show even the slightest hint of doubt or regret.

The scuttlebutt had become quite vicious, attacking DiNozzo's relatively unknown character and his all too well-known family name. One or two of the comments Tom had heard had been quite malicious in their nature; the young man couldn't be oblivious to the tense atmosphere of his workplace, but so far, the former Detective had yet to react to any of the spiteful, envy-driven rumours that were circulating the building.

The advisors and teachers over at FLETC were full of admiration for DiNozzo, clearly happy that, despite the differences between State and Federal Law, the young man was adapting easily to the new demands of his law enforcement career.

Morrow had been wary about assigning Gibbs and his current one man team to such an important case, but he needed the man's gut to make the leaps between the gaps in evidence and find a starting point.

The discovery of a possible Black Market smuggling ring being run right out of Norfolk was a shocking one; that Gibbs had so quickly managed to find evidence to cement that possibility had been disturbing. It had no longer mattered that Gibbs only had one man and a newbie at that, working alongside him; Gibbs was working the case and coming up with results, and _that_ was all that mattered.

Gibbs had informed him that despite suffering from a concussion and various other injuries, DiNozzo had been the one to find a successful lead in their case; clearly the man had the necessary talent for his chosen career no matter what state he was in.

He had already guessed that DiNozzo would be talented, as Gibbs was not the type of man to suffer fools gladly. He did, however, have trouble reconciling the very obvious differences between their characters; he had heard the mocking tone DiNozzo had used when talking about the Senior Agent's coffee habit and he thought that a sharp retort would be the only response.

Gibbs would likely have responded with a glare and more than a severe rejoinder if it had been anyone else, including Blackadder, who had served under Gibbs for a few months; instead, Morrow had been the shocked witness to Gibbs' bantering with his latest recruit. He knew that the Senior Agent had a dry sense of humour, but he _also_ knew that the man rarely let it show.

There seemed to exist already between the two men a sense of camaraderie that the Director knew Gibbs had missed since leaving the Marine Corps and losing the mentorship of Mike Franks.

Gibbs was not a man who liked to be questioned, but Morrow also knew that Gibbs wanted the people he worked with to grow a backbone and question him when it was needed; no man was without faults, no matter how the legends surrounding them tended to suggest, and Gibbs knew that all too well. If his personnel files were accurate, then DiNozzo seemed to be more than prepared to stand up for what he believed was the right course of action, no matter who was asking him to do otherwise.

The head-slap that ended their conversation took Morrow back to an earlier time; he had enjoyed watching the way Mike Franks had taken a gruff and untrusting Marine and turned him into one of NCIS's finest assets. The wry banter that existed between them had also been frequently punctuated with a head-slap or a pointed comment that was rarely ever malicious and almost always held a lesson despite the sometimes harsh words.

"DiNozzo," the Director greeted the young man, who had looked up from his paperwork with an expression Morrow knew all too well, as he had seen it on Gibbs' face more than once; it was a calculating look that quickly squashed any and all rumours that were circulating questioning the latest addition's intelligence.

"Director Morrow," Tony returned the greeting politely. He knew that Gibbs had been granted the permission to form his own team, but Tony also knew that it was still the Director who had the final say.

"How are you enjoying NCIS so far? Gibbs hasn't got you running for the hills already?"

"No," Tony smiled and looked over at the Senior Agent, aware that the older man had been watching them carefully. "His bark is worse than his bite," he cheerfully informed the Director.

"Watch it, DiNozzo," Gibbs warned him through narrowed eyes. "It isn't my bite you want to worry about; it's my itchy trigger-finger."

"Understood, Boss," Tony answered glibly with a mock salute.

"Are you managing the classes over at FLETC ok, or are you finding them a little repetative?" Morrow asked, hiding his amusement at seeing his normally stoic Senior Agent join in the teasing, no matter how threatening a tone his teasing managed to attain.

"I imagine you know more about how I'm doing in my classes than I do," Tony pointed out. He was prepared to be polite to the man, but he also wanted the Director to know that he was nobody's fool.

Gibbs' eyes narrowed further, glaring holes into the Director; he had been afraid that DiNozzo would discover the extra attention being paid towards his progress, but thankfully the younger man didn't seem to be disheartened by it.

"I just wanted to make sure you were settling in alright," Morrow replied in a dismissive tone. It was clear that he couldn't deny asking the instructors to keep a close eye on DiNozzo, but he also didn't want to imply that he had been particularly bothered about finding out one way or the other. Judging by the raised eyebrow and slight look of incredulity, he had not managed the carefree tone he had been aiming for; that, or DiNozzo was very good at reading people.

He was slowly beginning to understand why Gibbs had given the former Detective a shot at becoming a Special Agent; he was good at his job, intelligent, perceptive and he wasn't nearly as cowed by Gibbs' infamous glare as everyone else seemed to be.

"We'll talk more after this case, Mr. DiNozzo," Morrow offered his hand, which Tony dutifully shook. "But I think we can expect to see much more of each other."

Tony watched the older man head for the stairs and followed him all the way up until he entered MTAC; he still wasn't sure what he thought about the Director, or NCIS in general, but he was beginning to grow more and more certain that he wanted to work with Gibbs. If what the Director had just said was anything to go by, he was going to be earning that Special Agent status pretty soon.

He grinned at his Boss, certain that the older man would also have picked up on what had been left unsaid by the Director.

"Get back to work, DiNozzo," Gibbs' stern words were softened by the slight smile that adorned his face. His team was finally coming together.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Sorry once again for the delay with this one; RL does tend to get in the way sometimes. Let me know what you think or if you spot any errors. Thanks!<strong>_

_**UA– Unauthorised Abscence.**_

_**COs – Commanding Officers.**_

_**Next up, Gibbs and Tony manage to find out who hired the lawyer and Abby informs Tony about the Forties!**_


	6. Chapter 6

_**Thanks once again to everyone who had taken the time to read/review and for pointing out any corrections that needed to be made.**_

_**Found it impossible to be without a dog, and so went and looked at puppies about a week ago, and in about two weeks, I will collect my brand new puppy from her home and she will be on her way up North. Am very excited; she is lovely!  
><strong>_

_**Tony faces his first session of psychological evaluation and he and Gibbs uncover a worrying and dangerous link to their case. Next-of-kin is discussed and both Tony and Gibbs make a decision regarding the case that neither of them is too happy with.**_

* * *

><p><em><em>Tony looked at the clock with an unrealistic yet ardent desire to see the hour hand move as quickly as the minute hand.

He knew and understood that coming to NCIS would require him to undergo a psychiatric evaluation; after all, his new employers wanted to make sure they were getting someone who was firing on all cylinders.

Still, that didn't mean he had to like it.

Doctor Alicia Barton was very attractive, with her sleek black hair and her long, shapely legs, but the way she kept studying him before making notations in his file was more than slightly off-putting.

"I can't sign you off until we actually _talk_, Agent DiNozzo," the Doctor pointed out wryly.

"I'm not an Agent yet," Tony pointed out.

"But you hope to be?" Barton asked, watching the way her patient fidgeted with the cuffs of his sleeves. "Because if you do, then you've actually got to answer one or two of my questions."

"One or two, huh?" Tony asked with a wry grin and a doubtful expression.

"For starters," she smiled. She was used to dealing with all sorts of people who came through her doors and most of them were less than happy at the idea of talking to her. DiNozzo's team leader was one of the worst offenders; Gibbs was constantly deflecting her questions, silently glaring or even going to the great lengths of inventing a case to get him out of her office.

DiNozzo, it seemed, would be just as much of a challenge, and a more colourful one at that. Gibbs would normally say as little as possible and she was forced to read between the lines; with everything she had heard about DiNozzo, she suspected she'd have to wade through an awful lot of bullshit before getting to anything even remotely enlightening.

"I don't know what you want me to say; I've been through these things before and nothing has changed since my last psych. eval.," Tony pointed out with a shrug. He had always hated the compulsory counselling sessions and had never found them particularly helpful or informative.

"Really?" the Doctor questioned with a tone that Tony knew held danger. "So you don't think that getting shot in the line of duty changes anything?"

Tony sighed and rubbed at his eyes; normally he had no trouble running circles around the shrinks he was forced to see but clearly his exhaustion was hampering his efforts.

"A lot happened in Baltimore," Tony conceded. "But nothing life-changing. In this job, there is always the possibility of getting injured, and you prepare yourself for that eventuality as much as you can; some cops manage their whole careers without having to pull their gun, but I didn't know too many of those cops in Baltimore."

"It's a dangerous city to be a policeman," Barton nodded. "Did that ever worry you?"

"Not really, you can't approach the job like that," Tony shrugged, and it was true; you couldn't. If every case he tackled was hampered by worry and self-doubt then the case closure rate would never even reach double figures.

"So you never got worried for your safety?"

Tony resisted the urge to growl out loud; he knew where she was going with her line of questioning and what she was insinuating. He was well aware that his personnel file held a few notations about his seeming lack of regard towards his own personal safety; everyone he had ever worked with for any great period of time seemed to have something to say on the matter.

Gibbs had certainly questioned his approach to the job while in Baltimore, and Sam Jacobs had done his best to try and change Tony's more proactive stance towards policing. In Philadelphia, Danvers had just told him to make sure he didn't take down his partner in the crossfire.

"Self-preservation is a sensible quality in this profession," the Doctor commented casually while carefully watching her patient. She _had_ read the notations in his psych. profile that questioned whether or not he had a death wish; he didn't strike her as someone who was particularly careless, but the number of hospital visits alone indicated that there was a serious underlying issue that led to his recklessness.

"And you don't think that's a quality I possess," Tony stated rather than questioned; he had faced that opinion one time too many. Ok, so he'd had a few more bumps on the head than most cops, but that didn't mean he went looking for criminals who would cheerfully swing a lead pipe at his head.

"I have no idea, that's why I'm asking you," the Doctor pointed out patiently.

"I've had a few trips to the hospital, but it's not because I'm trying to get myself killed; if I wanted to do that, I have a perfectly good service weapon with a clip full of ammo," Tony pointed out, gesturing towards his empty holster. He was glad that he'd left his gun back in his desk drawer; he was beginning to feel the temptation of shooting if not himself then certainly his shrink.

"Have you thought much about that?"

"I am now," Tony said with the raising of an eyebrow as he feigned amusement when really he was doing his best to resist the urge to hit himself repeatedly on the head; he was not feeling up to playing head games. Why couldn't this evaluation have waited a few more days until he was completely recovered from his little tumble down the stairs?

"Before I sign off on your file, allowing you to officially begin your career as an NCIS Field Agent, I need to make sure that you are healthy, and I'm not talking about your physical recovery," Barton stressed. "A physician needs to be the one to decide whether or not your injuries are preventing you from doing your job, just as I need to be the one to decide whether or not you are up to the mental demands of this job; not just for your own sake, but for the sake and safety of the people you will be working alongside.

"You seem like an intelligent young man, Agent DiNozzo, and I'm sure on a better day you would be perfectly capable of playing all sorts of mind games with me, leading me in circles; now I'm sorry if my profession makes you feel uncomfortable, but that doesn't mean that I'm not going to do my job.

"We will have a few sessions together before I can draw up an accurate summary of your psychological profile; until you let me do my job, then you will not be able to do yours beyond your probationary period. Am I making myself understood?"

"Crystal," Tony smiled. He would be a little more alive the next session and then he could work on projecting whatever image he needed to in order to keep the ridiculous counselling sessions to a minimum.

"Until next time then," Doctor Barton nodded a goodbye as she handed him an appointment card. She was sure that she would be seeing the complex young man many times throughout his career at NCIS.

* * *

><p><em><em>"Everything go ok upstairs?" Gibbs asked as his latest recruit returned to his desk with a sigh.

"Erm," Tony said noncommittally. "Have you managed to find out anything else about Parks?"

Gibbs raised an eyebrow at the deflection but otherwise let it pass; he was no fan of the compulsory counselling sessions either and saw them as both a waste of time and departmental resources.

"One or two things have cropped up," Gibbs gestured for the younger man to come over to his desk.

"Let's see," Tony muttered as he read the information on his Boss' computer screen, stopping in shock as he recognised some familiar names. "The Diablos? Seriously?" he asked as he looked at Gibbs for confirmation.

"Seems like he's done a few jobs with them, working on contracts and trusts for their some of the businesses they have acting as fronts, mainly; he's got a reasonable enough reputation within his own field, but he's not stayed with any one law firm for more than a couple of years."

"Trouble, or something else?" Tony asked, aware through his own experiences that the reasons behind a short stay weren't always to do with a penchant for attracting trouble.

"Nothing to indicate why he left; it could just be a personality clash with the higher ups, and with his route towards partnership being side-tracked, maybe he went looking for some extra income," Gibbs shrugged. It was all conjecture at this stage and he didn't like that, but he wasn't really interested in the lawyer; he _was_ interested in who Parks answered to and obeyed.

Tony and Gibbs had spent their day sifting through paperwork, eager to find anything that might help them to understand what it was about the lawyer that had brought an experienced Staff Sergeant to sweat so profusely with fear and anxiety in his presence; a link with a criminal gang as influential as the Diablos explained a lot.

"No wonder Henson was nervous," Tony wondered aloud. "The DC branch of the Diablo crime organisation is notoriously ruthless, and their links to the Sinaloa Cartel would be enough to make even the most hardened man scared shitless."

"We need to know how _Henson_ might know about that association," Gibbs said with frustration, looking back through the many files on his desk as he realised that the case was getting more and more complicated.

"Do you think they're involved in the smuggling ring?" Tony pondered.

"They could be involved in the distribution, although they primarily deal with drugs, not guns," the Senior Agent pointed out.

"True, but there are all sorts of over the Border deals," Tony was letting his mind explore the possibilities and was so relieved at finding a possible lead that he was happy to temporarily ignore the gravity of uncovering the possible involvement of a major Mexican Cartel with a US military base. "Drugs normally go North across the border into the US and while guns go both ways, a lot go South into Mexico to arm the Cartels for their wars.

"The Cartels are getting more and more violent, fighting for control of the border and the supply routes that go with it; military grade hardware might be just what the Sinaloa Cartel are looking for to give them a head start over their rivals," Tony concluded.

Gibbs couldn't fault the man's logic but he really hoped that he was wrong; he was not entirely sure that he could trust in himself where the Cartels were involved, given his past.

"And the Diablos?" Gibbs asked, wanting to hear the rest of the younger man's ideas.

"Well, the Cartels operate in their own areas back in Mexico, because those supply routes are vital to their organisation, so like most Cartels they usually end up with all sorts of alliances to handle international business; they have _all_ sorts of people acting as go-between for them in Europe and they've been expanding into Asia. Maybe the Diablos handle things on the East Coast for them, act as buffer between the authorities and the Cartel," Tony shrugged.

There were indeed many alliances, especially between the Cartels and various criminal organisations within the US, but they had nothing to prove that the Sinaloa Cartel was involved with the gun-running that was occurring out of Norfolk Navy Base.

"You've seen what they do to people who cross them, Gibbs," Tony shuddered as he remembered some of the images of decapitated and mangled bodies of former enemies to the Cartels. "The Diablos are a pretty brutal organisation, but their reputation is nothing compared to the Sinaloa Cartel; if he knows about that particular working relationship, Henson _should_ be terrified."

"I can't see him agreeing to help them in the first place, though, and there certainly seems to be no financial incentive given the lack of funds in his bank account," Gibbs shook his head. The Staff Sergeant had a few disciplinary issues, but nothing beyond a mild case of insubordination, and certainly nothing that would explain how he might have involved himself with a major Cartel.

"Maybe the smuggling started off small," Tony suggested.

"And things snowballed…" Gibbs added, still trying to see the link between a few greedy Marines and a deadly Cartel. "The wrong people started to get interested in what they were selling and word got around; threats?" he asked the younger man.

"They could certainly make the kind of threats that would be hard to ignore, even for a combat experienced Marine like Henson," Tony pointed out.

"None of this will get us a search warrant," Gibbs frowned. They had finally found a promising lead on the smuggling ring with Henson, but because of the circumstantial nature of it all there was nowhere they could go with it; it was frustrating, to say the least.

"I'll go and get us something for dinner…and a coffee, of course," Tony grinned. "Then we can get back to finding something that any sensible judge would be nuts to overlook."

"Take Abby with you," it was likely that they would need her techno-magic to help them find something more than circumstantial to link Parks, Henson and the Diablos together. "Try to get something that won't offend Duck too much," Gibbs suggested wryly; the M.E. may have gone home for the night, but Gibbs didn't doubt for one moment that there would be another lecture on the horizon if DiNozzo was discovered to have eaten anything even remotely unhealthy.

"Pizza has vegetables on it," Tony grinned as he headed towards the elevator.

* * *

><p><em><em>"So…how is everything going?" Abby asked as she bounced on her toes, watching their take-away being prepared behind the counter.

"Every time we seem to find a good lead, we run into one obstacle or another," Tony sighed. He was still not back to full health after the shooting in Baltimore and the tumble down the stairs had taken a lot more out of him than he would ever admit to; at the same time, he knew that the case needed to be solved quickly, before any more weapons fell into the wrong hands.

"Now we find out that there is the possibility of one of the most dangerous Cartels in the world being involved, and I get the feeling that things could go very wrong if we're not careful with this; they are not the kind of people you want to notice you."

"Sounds like you could be learning the Forties sooner than I thought," Abby pointed out with a frown. She had never liked it when the job put her friends at risk and with Gibbs' team currently reduced to only the Senior Agent himself and DiNozzo, who was completely new to the Agency, she was doubly worried.

"The _'Forties'_?" Tony asked.

"Gibbs hasn't told you anything about the Forties?" Abby asked, aghast. "The Forties are the rules that you want to worry most about; if Gibbs brings out a Forty, then things are way beyond bad."

"Oh…you're talking about his infamous set of rules," Tony finally clicked. "You know, it would be so much easier to work with the man if he wrote them down somewhere."

"Bossman would _never_ write them down, and I'm pretty sure if he knew you had, he would burn them," Abby said with certainty. "But basically, all you need to know is that the Forties are bad…you don't want to hear him bring out a Forty."

"How bad can they be?" Tony asked, almost hesitantly, unsure as to whether or not he really wanted to know.

"Well, _Rule 40: If it seems like someone is out to get you, they are_," Abby recited. "And _that's_ just how the Forties _start_!"

"Ok, so I don't want to hear him bring out a Forty," Tony agreed fervently, worried about how bad a _'Forties'_ situation must be if the rest of them were quite as paranoid. "I think I'm going to need to fill in those next-of-kin forms before we get too much further into this case," he sighed; he was sure that a possible tangle with the Sinaloa Cartel could very well bring out a Forty.

He still wasn't happy about having to replace Sam as his next-of-kin, but he did see the sense in it, even if sentimentality held him back.

"Ooh, who are you going to put down?" Abby asked, eager eyes riveting themselves on DiNozzo's face. She knew that Tony didn't really know anyone in DC except those within NCIS and she was curious to hear his answer.

Ducky was the easier choice, as the kindly old man was already a Doctor and could cut through a lot of medical bureaucracy with his credentials. He was also far more approachable than most; his grandfatherly attitude could placate even the most hospital shy patients.

While Ducky might well be the easier choice, she was pretty sure that Gibbs was the right one.

The gruff former Marine was far from approachable to all but children and red-headed women, and he was not at all patient; however, since DiNozzo had arrived in DC, Gibbs had done more for the younger man than he had done for anyone on his team for as far back as she could remember.

The Senior Agent had been without an adequate team for a long time now, and both Abby and Ducky had shared many a conversation, expressing their concerns over the possibilities that could arise with a team that didn't trust each other, and where half of those involved lacked the adequate training.

Although Abby had not jumped straight on the DiNozzo Bandwagon, she had come to see that Gibbs had already come to trust and rely upon the younger man. She was excited to see how the team would evolve now that Gibbs had free rein to choose his own Agents; with the addition of DiNozzo, the foundations were that much sturdier.

She knew how Gibbs had come to regard the younger man, but she was still unsure as to how DiNozzo viewed the Senior Agent; he respected Gibbs, certainly, but it was unclear as to just how much he trusted the older man. By placing Gibbs as his next-of-kin, Tony would be making a statement not just to his new Boss, but to himself, too, and Abby was certain that he needed to strengthen his resolve in regards to his career at NCIS; she knew that _she_ was sure as hell looking for a sign that he didn't want to leave just yet.

"I don't know," Tony shook his head with frustration. "Maybe I'll ask Gibbs," he said slowly; his eyes, as unfocused as they were, completely missed the way Abby grinned in triumph.

He was limited in choice, given that he didn't really know anyone in DC; NCIS contained almost the limit of his acquaintances in the area.

Gibbs had done a lot for him since he had arrived and he was sure he could trust Gibbs not to take advantage of the position. He liked Ducky and Abby, but he wasn't sure whether or not he could stand Abby's enthusiasm in the face of injury, or Ducky's clucking.

The Senior Agent was certainly not a man to be trifled with, but Tony thought that Gibbs would understand him far more than the other two could hope to do. Tony _was_ the job, and he would not let a concussion or a bullet wound stop him from carrying out his duties; he knew that Gibbs was the same and would understand his need to do something, rather than sit back on his hospital bed and let others do all the hard work.

"You should ask him," Abby advised him. "I'm sure he'd agree."

"Yeah," Tony nodded, not convinced. "Maybe. Come on, we should take him his coffee if we're hoping for a nice word from him for the rest of the evening."

Abby skipped out of the take-away joint behind him, happy that Tony's actions were pointing towards a more permanent position at NCIS. "Don't forget, we need to go and get my Caff-Pow, too," she sang with a smile.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Tony rolled his eyes; between Ducky and his tea, Gibbs and his coffee, and Abby and her sickly, sugar infused Caff-Pows, NCIS seemed to suffer from a serious over-dependency on caffeine.

* * *

><p><em><em>It was nearing two in the morning, and Gibbs and Tony had spent more time than was healthy sifting through information on their computer screens and leafing through files that they had already reviewed at least twice, hoping to find some snippet of information that could give them a link between Henson and whoever could be running the smuggling ring.

They needed a break, and a cup of coffee just wasn't going to cut it.

Gibbs had felt his hatred of lawyers growing exponentially as the hours dragged by as they still had nothing; Parks had shown up just as Henson was going to start talking, and now the SSg. wasn't saying a word from the comfort of his cell.

He looked across at DiNozzo's desk and saw the younger man rubbing at his eyes as he sifted through yet another military personnel file. He remembered what the younger man had said about how his old partner, Jacobs, had handled him when he needed a stress reliever.

"Come on, DiNozzo," he said as he got up, taking his sidearm from his desk drawer. "Grab your gun."

Tony frowned briefly but did as he was told, too tired to argue. He knew that Gibbs hadn't found anything new, as the older man would have let him know as soon as he had discovered something even remotely hopeful. He followed the Senior Agent to the elevator and watched as Gibbs hit the button for the basement; once the doors opened, Tony trailed after the man through several corridors, realising that he needed to do a few days exploring of the place so he knew where everything was.

"Come on," Gibbs nodded towards the door ahead. He saw DiNozzo's expression turn to confusion as he took in the large room before him. "We needed a break," Gibbs explained as he checked his weapon.

Tony looked at the gun range in front of him; logically he knew that many law enforcement buildings had their own range, but he had never really thought about one at NCIS. Like Gibbs, he got his gun out and made the various safety checks before going towards one of the booths and strapping on the ear protection.

Gibbs set up the first target and put it at the closest setting, watching as Tony methodically shot his weapon, securing a neat, centre mass targeting. The tension in the younger man's shoulders had eased just a little.

DiNozzo had told him that when he was suffering through a bad case, Jacobs had often taken his down to the gym to work out some of his frustrations on a punch bag, and sometimes he had taken him for a lesson at the gun range. Gibbs didn't think his new partner needed much more in the way of training, but he found himself assessing the young man's abilities anyway; when the case was over, he would take Tony to an outdoor range, and then his own personal lessons could begin.

For now, though, this would have to do; DiNozzo was in no shape to hit the gym or go on one of his runs.

They had each attacked several paper targets at various distances, both of them hitting exactly what they were aiming for, when Tony took off his goggles and ear-muffs and looked at the Senior Agent with a frown marring his features.

Gibbs removed his protective gear and waited for the younger man to talk; the tension was greatly eased and so it was mission accomplished, but they still had a case to get back to.

"I'm really going to hate myself for this," Tony started, looking slightly disgusted with himself for speaking aloud his current thoughts. "But I think we're going to need some outside help on this."

"Fornell?" Gibbs had already guessed what DiNozzo was going to suggest as he had been thinking the same thing for the past half hour.

"Fornell," Tony agreed with a sour taste in his mouth.

"Fornell," Gibbs sighed as he got out his phone; he actually quite liked the FBI Agent and he found the man more than capable, but that didn't mean that he was ever going to enjoy asking Fornell for help.

* * *

><p><em><strong>And there you have it, another chapter finally done. Let me know what you think or if you spot any mistakes.<strong>_

_**Next up – the FBI get involved in the case, as everyone works to bring a close to the gun trafficking, and Gibbs tells Tony about the infamous Rule 12.**_


	7. Chapter 7

_**Thanks once again to everyone who has taken the time to read/review/message; your encouragement and constructive criticism is much appreciated.**_

_**I hope you all had a nice time over the holidays, and a Happy New Year to you all!**_

_**Had hoped to get this out before Christmas (managed to have half of it done), but I am far from being one of those organised few that seem to have everything sorted before the calendar even hits December and things got pretty manic pretty quickly, as I'm sure many of you will understand. Things have calmed down now (slightly) so hopefully the next one won't take as long.**_

_**Without further ado, on with the story…**_

* * *

><p><em><em>Tony was sitting and his desk reviewing files on the DC branch of the Diablos in an attempt to uncover any possible link between the criminal organisation and Staff Sergeant Henson; so far he had not found anything tangible.

It probably didn't help that he spent half of his time glancing towards the elevators.

Fornell might have helped him, Sam and Agent Gibbs to take down Lamb and her human trafficking ring, but the FBI Agent still had a long way to go towards making up for his past mistakes in Philadelphia.

Tony had no doubt that the man was good at his job; his own gut told him that much and he had more than enough trust in Gibbs' judgement. The Senior Agent appeared to have an almost antagonistic relationship with Fornell, but it was clearly one that involved mutual respect; despite the sniping that frequently occurred between the two of them, both agents had worked well alongside each other in Baltimore.

The ding of the elevator caught Tony's attention for the eighth time in the space of ten minutes; Fornell stepped out with two more agents that clearly belonged to the FBI, dressed in the stereotypical trench coats and dark suits.

"Gibbs," Fornell greeted his NCIS counterpart as he arrived in the bullpen; he noticed the way DiNozzo was looking at him and his agents with careful, assessing eyes as he passed his judgment. Fornell wasn't concerned with what the younger man thought; he had offered him a job once and certainly respected DiNozzo's abilities, but he wasn't about to let one man's mistrust stop him from doing his job the way he had been doing so for going on twenty years.

"Agents Best and Richardson," he gestured to the two men who were quietly looking around the bullpen with obvious curiosity. "They both work with the Organised Crime Unit over in the Hoover Building; they can tell you more about the DC branch of the Diablos than I can."

Gibbs' eyes narrowed.

Fornell fought hard not to roll his eyes. On the one hand, he felt quite privileged that Gibbs only ever seemed to want to work with one man from within the FBI's hundreds of agents; on the other hand, Fornell found _being_ that one man came with all sorts of problems.

He knew that he was good at his job and his seniority had meant that he had many years of experience from within many different departments; that did _not_ make him an expert in all of them. He knew that Gibbs would be opposed to working with the unknown, but for all their flaws, Best and Richardson were good agents who knew their targets well.

"I understand you're looking into the Diablos," Richardson asked and without waiting for an answer slapped down a series of thick folders on the empty desk opposite Tony's. "We've brought along some of the more important files to guide you through, but they've got a pretty extensive network of foot soldiers; some of _them_ barely rate a mention in these," he gestured towards the paperwork.

"We would, however, like a guarantee that you're not going to step all over any of our current investigations unless your case has a direct link to one of them. We've got a few high-profile targets who are close to indicting themselves; we're hoping that when they're faced with a number of serious charges they'll cut a deal and give us info on the bosses and maybe even confirm the rumours that they're involved with the Sinaloa Cartel.

"We would also like to be included in this investigation. We'll try not to step on any toes but if there _is_ a provable link between the Diablos and the Sinaloa Cartel, then we want access to that evidence; _that_ is a link that, if it exists, needs to be shut down hard and fast."

Gibbs started scowling the moment he heard the restrictions; he had never liked taking orders and normally only tolerated them when they had come directly from his CO. His time in the military might be over but he was still a Senior Agent in a Federal Agency and the guy telling him what to do looked like he'd bought his badge from a toy store.

On the other hand, they needed access to any and all information that would either get Henson to turn on his friends within the trafficking ring or evidence that would point to other suspects, and, loath as he was to admit it, he could perfectly understand not wanting another Agency to ruin months if not years of case work.

"No guarantees," Gibbs warned. "But we'll _try_ not to trample all over your on-going investigations."

Fornell immediately nodded his agreement, all too aware that Gibbs had just made all the concessions he would ever agree to make.

* * *

><p><em><em>"Tony ?" came a voice from the side, an interruption of his paperwork that he was more than happy about. "I told you I'd be seeing you around."

Tony looked up into the eyes of "Paula Cassidy, right?"

"You remembered," the female agent replied with evident amusement. "So, did you manage to find your way to the lecture hall ok, or did you end up as someone's punch-bag?"

"I got there fine, thanks," Tony offered a smile as he remembered their first meeting.

"And now you know who you work for," Paula stated. "You must," she said as she gestured to the desk. "You found your way to a desk at NCIS, after all."

"Didn't even need someone to hold my hand," Tony grinned. He was enjoying the banter and clearly, so was Paula Cassidy.

"Well it was nice to see you again, Tony, but I've got work to be doing; I guess I'll be seeing you around," she gave a little wave as she continued her way through the bullpen towards the stairs, giving Gibbs a respectful nod as she went.

"Bad idea, DiNozzo," Gibbs advised from his desk.

"Huh?" Tony questioned, a little confused as to what the Senior Agent was referring.

"Dating a co-worker; it's a bad idea," Gibbs repeated, his gaze fixed on Tony.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Tony denied with feigned indifference.

He did.

He had seen Paula, thought her attractive and already enjoyed her playful banter; his mind had taken him to the exact scenario Gibbs was clearly warning him away from.

"Sure," Gibbs muttered sceptically. "Rule Number Twelve, DiNozzo…"

"Seriously?" Tony interrupted. "You have a _rule_ for this? Is there anything you _don't_ have a rule for?"

"Rule Number Twelve, DiNozzo: _never_ date a co-worker!" the Senior Agent continued, sending a glare towards the younger man for the interruption. "It never leads to anything other than disaster."

"I guess it's a good thing I'm not then, isn't it," Tony offered with a smug grin before turning back to the stack of files on his desk.

Gibbs sighed and returned to his own work. There had been an obvious chemistry between the two agents and the idea of a relationship might look good on paper but he knew all too well the dangers of dating a co-worker; it looked as though DiNozzo was going to have to learn the hard way just _why_ it was a bad idea.

* * *

><p><em><em>The two NCIS Agents and the three FBI Agents had been going over their collective data for over four hours, trying to find the weak link in the trafficking ring.

Henson still looked like their best bet for the witness stand but he had lawyered up, looking to the clearly seedy Brian Parks for his instructions; that the SSgt was scared was evident, but exactly _who_ he was scared of was still unclear.

Through their contacts, Best and Richardson had managed to find more evidence to support the rumours that the Diablo organisation had increased their ties to the Sinaloa Cartel over the past three years by way of arms dealing, strengthening their own local power and their income; they were still unable to tie any of Henson's known acquaintances to the trafficking ring, the Diablos _or_ the Cartel.

"We're still missing something," Tony sighed as he threw yet another heavy folder down on his desk with evident frustration.

Gibbs looked up from his own reading but did not interrupt; he, too, felt as though they were missing a vital link but that link seemed to be just beyond his grasp.

"We know Henson was involved and we know that he must have had some help from his friends, even if we can't prove exactly who those friends are," Tony started.

"Yet," Gibbs promised. "We can't prove who those friends are _yet_."

"Yet," Tony agreed. "But all this digging is taking us nowhere other than in circles; his friends have a few disciplinary issues but nothing major and nothing that points towards gun-smuggling. Not one of them has even the vaguest ties to the DC Diablos and the one Marine who is originally from DC is more white bread than Martha Stewart.

"The Diablos seem to be the likely suspects in inviting the Cartel into this little shindig because I can't see a Marine without any ties to the Sinaloa organisation just proposing a business deal like that out of the blue, but how the hell did the Diablos get involved in the first place? Henson doesn't exactly scream _'arms-dealer extraordinaire'_ to me, so how did he go from being your average Joe Friday Marine to Sam Cummings?"

"_That_ would be our missing link, DiNozzo," Gibbs replied as he tiredly scrubbed a hand over his face.

"So we need to cross-reference names," Tony stated. "We use the men and women employed at Norfolk, not just Henson and co., and check them against the names that Best and Richardson have given us," he nodded towards the FBI Agents. "Have you got the names of everyone you suspect of being involved in the Diablos on computer somewhere?"

"We do," Agent Richardson asked. "I'm sure our supervisor will permit access to the data."

"Do you think Abby could do it for us? It'll take a while," Tony pointed out as he turned back to Gibbs. He knew that he wasn't the best with computers and he was well aware that the Senior Agent was even worse.

Gibbs nodded.

"I can go and get her started on it, give her a hand?" Fornell asked; he knew about the case but only as much as he had been able to read since arriving at NCIS. He'd spent his time reading through many thick folders where very few of the names _or_ circumstances had meant much of anything to him; sometimes, being the only FBI Agent in town that Special Agent Gibbs would play nice with could be a tiring and tedious affair.

Gibbs nodded and picked up his phone to let the Forensic Specialist know that Fornell was coming down to see her; Abby was never going to follow the FBI Agent's instructions without knowing that they had already been Gibbs approved.

There would likely be a lot of names and no doubt there would be all sorts of links, from former high-school classmates to childhood neighbours; it would take a long time to narrow down the list to something even halfway useful.

"When you were a Marine," Tony started once Gibbs had finished on the phone, "who on base knew the most about what was going on behind the scenes?"

"It depends what you're asking about," Gibbs shrugged. "The guys who worked in the mess hall were usually pretty well-versed in the latest scuttlebutt before anyone else because people would talk in line and forget they were there.

"Some CO's knew that all sorts of things were happening on base that shouldn't have been and chose to ignore it all anyway; some CO's spent their entire time behind a desk and were completely oblivious to just about everything, while other CO's got more involved than any Non-Com was comfortable with.

"The Quartermaster always knew what…" Gibbs trailed off.

"Knew what?" Tony asked when it became clear the Senior Agent was not going to continue.

"The Quartermaster," Gibbs almost slapped his head at his stupidity. "_No one_ knows what's coming into a base and what's leaving it better than a Quartermaster does; if there was something going on, either he's unbelievably stupid, or…"

"…Or he's in on it," Tony finished. "There wasn't a Quartermaster listed in any of those files we were given; I've been over them so many times I could probably recite them backwards and there is no Quartermaster mentioned."

"Tony, who gave you all the information on Henson and his friends?" Gibbs asked as his infamous gut pushed him towards a theory. He started rummaging through a box looking for something he had seen earlier.

"His immediate CO, Gunnery Sergeant Michael Aikers. Why?" Tony asked.

"Look at this," Gibbs handed over a picture. "You recognise anyone in this other than Henson?"

"No," Tony shook his head, nonplussed. "Should I?"

"If you've been combing through the files of his so-called friends on base, then yes, you should. We pulled this from Henson's apartment," Gibbs looked back at the photo; the men were all relaxed and smiling happily at the barrack-house antics of two men, one of them Henson. "That not one of these men were in the files you were given leads me to believe that either Aikers doesn't know his men all that well, or…"

"…Or he was lying to us," Tony completed the Senior Agent's sentence once again. "He wasn't in the photo either," he commented offhand. "Maybe he's the missing link; maybe _he's_ the one who brought the heavy hitters in and he's been trying to lead us off course."

"DiNozzo, you and Best go and see what you can find out about Aikers; see if you can find any reason that would explain why he lied to us," Gibbs told the younger man, not even looking at the FBI Agent as he issued his orders. "Richardson and I will look into the Quartermaster, see if we can find any links there."

* * *

><p><em><em>"GySgt Aikers took his mother's maiden name. Michael Aikers' birth certificate says his real name is Miguel Esposito," Tony supplied as he put his finds down on Gibbs' desk. "His father is Manuel Esposito; that is the same Manuel Esposito that's on the DEA's watch-list suspected of being a vital link in the Sinaloa network between their home-base in Culiacán and their operations North of the Mexican Border. Manuel Esposito has apparently been a real asset in their on-going war with the Tijuana Cartel in securing the major drug routes across the Border."

"The real question is whether Aikers is secretly working in Daddy Dearest's name, or is he simply trying to strike out on his own?" Best asked, more to himself than to anyone else. "If he's trying to make a name for himself then he should be much easier to take down because he'll be lacking the major support network that his father could secure, but if his father _is_ involved then the Cartel have infiltrated the US with far more efficiency than we could ever have suspected."

"Well the Quartermaster has more money in his account than he should, but not all that much which leads me to believe he is either a big spender or, more likely, he is lower down on the totem pole than we thought. It could be that the move to deal with the Cartel has pushed down his earnings; might give him reason to be pissed enough at them so maybe he'll be looking to co-operate," Gibbs informed them.

"If he isn't too terrified," Tony mumbled to himself. The major Mexican Cartels all had fearsome reputations, especially when it came to dealing with suspected rats.

"We need to get any and all information that links the Quartermaster, Henson and Aikers," Gibbs told them. "We can't afford to go after a Cartel like the Sinaloa with only half the intel."

* * *

><p><em><em>"Come on DiNozzo," Gibbs said as he got up and slipped on his jacket. "We're going home." Normally he would do everything he could to avoid leaving a case in the middle of a major breakthrough like the one they had found earlier, but he knew that DiNozzo was still not up to handling more than one full day of work without consequences on his still healing body.

He also knew that there was nothing they could do that couldn't wait until morning; Abby was still sifting through names, happily chugging down Caff-Pows and banging her head to her music, and Aikers was still on base in Norfolk with the FBI posting cars outside the main entrances, keeping an eye out in case the GySgt decided to rabbit.

Everyone needed to get some shut-eye if they were going to be on top form the next day; taking down the DC branch of a major criminal network could be exhausting work to even the most bright-eyed of agents.

The FBI Agents had returned to the Hoover building to see if they could find anything else on the Esposito family and any connections that they might have with Norfolk in an effort to avoid any nasty surprises; Gibbs had no doubt that Fornell would take care of his own, just as he planned to do.

DiNozzo might have found himself an apartment, but he still had no furniture and hadn't even had the time to look for any; Gibbs wasn't going to let the recuperating young man kip in a sleeping-bag until their workload died down enough to afford him some free time to go shopping for a bed.

"Now, DiNozzo," he huffed with impatience as the younger man was still bent over a file; for a guy who liked to present a frat-boy image, he was really quite the workaholic.

* * *

><p><em><em>As soon as Tony got out of a wonderfully hot shower, he picked up his phone and made a long overdue call.

"Hey Kid," Sam warmly greeted his former partner. "How's everything going in DC? You're not overdoing things, are you?"

The response was a sigh, and Sam could perfectly envision the eye-roll that undoubtedly accompanied it; some things would never change.

"No, Sam," Tony answered. "I have _not_ been over-doing things."

Sam didn't believe him for one moment; not only did he know the younger man all too well to ever trust that he'd take a step back and rest, but he had also spoken to Special Agent Gibbs.

The former Marine Scout Sniper had phoned Sam on a couple of occasions, asking for advice on how to handle his stubborn new recruit; the man had been worried that Tony _was_ over-doing things and that he remained unconvinced about his new job.

Sam couldn't imagine Gibbs ever willingly asking someone for their assistance, but he was certain that the man laying aside his pride, even if momentarily, was a sign that Agent Gibbs knew exactly what he had acquired with Tony and was determined to do everything in his power to keep him.

Tony had phoned frequently, checking in and doing his own clucking over Sam's injuries; the man could whip up an impressive lecture if he ever thought that Sam was not following the doctor's orders to the very letter, but when the situation was reversed, nothing could convince Tony about the merits of painkillers and bed-rest.

Tony always failed to see the hypocrisy of the situation.

Despite the fact that Tony had phoned and phoned often, he had yet to really talk about anything beyond healthcare and superficial topics; he always seemed to skirt around any issues that were even remotely close to revealing how he was really feeling.

He had learnt early on in their partnership that if he ever tried to get Tony to talk about something that he would really rather avoid, then he was either led on a merry little conversation and an artful lesson about deviation, or he was given a quick searching look before being faced with nothing more than Tony's back as the man walked away to find less intrusive company.

Tony was so used to being able to flash one of his many masks at people who got too close who then thought he was either an idiot, an asshole, or both, that or they had just been given more information about the man than they could ever have asked for or ever have wanted to hear.

Their assumptions were almost always wrong.

Tony could be an idiot about all sorts of things and he could certainly be an asshole without ever really trying if the mood struck him, and despite Tony's tacit nature where all things personal were concerned, the man was always happy to share far too much information about his latest meaningless conquest that left you wondering what aspects of his playboy living were fact or fiction.

But those traits were only ever one or two layers of the complex young man.

To get the truth from Tony, you had to wait until he was ready to share; Sam had grown used to that over their two year partnership, and he hoped that Gibbs understood that vital aspect of his rookie agent's personality.

"Of course not," Sam finally muttered in a tone that let Tony know exactly how much faith he had in his former partner's answer.

"What about you?" Tony challenged. "Are _you_ over-doing things?"

The conversation had become routine; neither one accepting the other's answer on their state of health. Sam was not always honest with others or with himself when he was hurting or ill, often adamantly denying that there was anything wrong with him, but he was nowhere near as bad as DiNozzo; the kid was a master at diverting attention away from himself and his potentially hospital-worthy injuries.

"I'm fine, my leg is fine and there has been no over-doing of anything," Sam insisted, even as he glared across the room at his discarded stick.

The doctors had insisted that he use the stick for a while longer yet, helping to support his bodyweight as his knee healed itself from both the shooting and the surgery. But the stick was a symbol of everything he had come to despise since his shooting: dependency and debilitation and a demotion to riding a desk. The thought that he might need that stick for the rest of his days was enough to make him want to ignore it altogether.

"Sure you are," Tony snorted disbelievingly.

"Is everything at NCIS going ok?" Sam asked, changing the topic. He knew that he had to be patient with Tony, but that didn't mean he wasn't prepared to nudge the younger man in the right direction.

"I don't know," Tony sighed, all too aware what Sam was really asking. He also knew that the older man not only _deserved_ to know, but that his knowing would provide Tony with a sensible sounding board for all his fears and frustrations.

"The Director has been asking the instructors to keep an eye on me so that they can report back to him," Tony pointed out with a hint of disgust at being watched so closely. "It feels like they're always watching my every step and no one else; it's worse than an IAB investigation."

Sam frowned, despite the light-hearted grumblings, he knew that the idea of being watched so carefully bothered Tony as it would have bothered anyone; being singled out was bad enough but being singled out for no other reason than simply being hired…that was never likely to sit well with the young man.

Tony had many, often crippling insecurities, but the pride he had for his job and the confidence he had in himself when it came to work was something he had held onto through everyone else's criticism and hazing and downright suspicion. To hear the doubt in the usually self-assured younger man was more than worrisome, it was bordering on disturbing.

"I'm sure that has more to do with Agent Gibbs than with you Tony," Sam tried to assure his former partner. While it would undoubtedly have _something_ to do with the unorthodox way in which Tony came to join NCIS, the Director would undoubtedly be nervous about what kind of people Agent Gibbs would look to hire after being given a carte blanche to form his own team.

"Yes, I know," Tony confessed. "But it doesn't say a lot about the way I must come over on paper, does it? I mean, the Director gives Gibbs the go-ahead on forming his own team, but then I come along, and all of a sudden the Director thinks that maybe he made a mistake."

"You _don't_ come across well on paper," Sam agreed truthfully. "You've got as many reprimands in your file as you do commendations, and you've pretty much earned them all, the good _and_ the bad." DiNozzo was a damn good cop, but sometimes he let his passion overrule his sense and that had undoubtedly led him into the path of unavoidable trouble from time to time.

"You made Detective early with no mention of why," Sam pointed out, and quickly continued so as not to offend Tony. "You earned it, definitely, but Philadelphia PD wanted to keep things quiet, so your jump to Detective was always likely to raise a few eyebrows for those who didn't know the facts, Tony."

"Yeah," Tony sighed. He knew that Sam was being completely honest, and he needed that, but he _hated_ that it _was_ the truth; tainted by the corruption that he had helped to uncover but had never been a part of, being penalised for doing his job and doing it well.

"It's not just the Director, though," Tony confessed. "There are a lot of people who aren't all that fond of me over here."

"Did you really expect everyone to greet you with open arms?" Sam asked, half bemused and half concerned. Tony had taken a lot of crap from people throughout his career, partly because of his name and his wealthy Long Island background, partly because of the way he chose to keep everyone at arm's length and a whole host of other completely inconsequential reasons.

In Baltimore, people had been suspicious about the mystery that surrounded his leap to Detective status; Sam had been one of them right up until he actually got to know the younger man.

All in all, Tony had been forced to deal with a lot of animosity and Sam had thought that perhaps he might be immune to it by now; he had momentarily forgotten that despite the mask of apathy that Tony showed to the masses, it really _did_ bother the man.

"No, but it would have been nice," Tony finally spoke; the world-weary tone told Sam that the doubts of those fellow agents had begun to seep over into Tony. Once again, Sam heard the evidence that Tony was starting to start doubt himself in regards to the job, hinting that the criticism he had faced through so much of his law enforcement career was wearing on him far more than usual.

"Give them time, Tony. To them, you're new and inexperienced; they'll come around once they know that you're not only serious about the job, but more that competent at it, too," Sam tried to encourage him.

"Yeah, because that worked _so_ well in Baltimore," Tony stated wryly, although Sam could still hear the doubt there.

"It did for those that mattered," Sam said firmly. There had still been many doubters, even after Tony had proven himself to be more than proficient at the job, but Tony had still managed to earn the respect of some truly good people. From the men and women in Patrol, like Blackburn, to talented and popular Detectives, like Wells, right up to the Chief of Police himself.

He had not been oblivious to the facts that all of Tony's doubts surrounding his potential career at NCIS had not been based upon Gibbs; he had been concerned at the hits that Gibbs might be taking on his behalf but there had been no concerns with the man himself.

Sam was pretty sure that it was a sign that even if he hadn't admitted it out loud or even internally, Tony was going to give NCIS a chance. It was nothing to do with proving himself to the Director, or to the multitude of agents who were not yet savvy to Tony's true aptitude, but Sam knew, right from the early days of working alongside Gibbs in Baltimore to the current days of doubt and confusion DiNozzo was suffering through in DC, that Tony wanted to prove himself to Gibbs, wanted to prove himself _worthy_ of Gibbs faith in him and his abilities.

Sam knew that Tony had nothing left to prove to Gibbs; all that remained was for Tony to prove to _himself_ that he belonged in DC and on Special Agent Gibbs' team.

"You're on to a good thing going here, Tony," Sam assured the younger man. "Don't give up on it just yet. If Gibbs manages to hold on to you beyond your customary two years, then I think that you've got the makings of one hell of a team."

"Yeah, I know," and he did; Tony knew that he and Gibbs worked well together, but he just wasn't sure whether or not it would last. Tony wasn't a lot like the rest of the people working their way through FLETC courses; people with academic degrees and computer wizardry were fast becoming the poster children for Federal Agencies across the US.

"Just think, ten years down the line you two could be the elite crime-fighting duo in DC," Sam smiled as his mind instantly took him to a mental image of a tough as nails Gunnery Sergeant wearing tights and a batman mask, with Tony's grin bright and wide despite the ridiculous costume he was wearing.

Tony had a similar mental picture and instantly recoiled from the absurdity and the rather disturbing imagery it conjured; Gibbs was just as likely to get into a pair of tights as Tony was to commit to a life of celibacy. "Yeah, right, like _that_ would ever happen!"

* * *

><p><em><strong>Finally managed to get another chapter out; thanks for your patience. Let me know if you spot any errors.<strong>_

_**White Bread – slang term meaning boringly suburban and middle-class.**_

_**Sam Cummings – a former CIA Agent turned arms dealer who, with the full backing of his government (in the 1950's - 1960's) supplied a vast array of weaponry to people and organisations the world over. Though normally falling into the hands of US approved foreign governments, they sometimes ended up in the hands of the enemy.**_

_**Non-Com – Non Commissioned Officer.**_

_**Quartermaster – on land it is a soldier (or unit) who is responsible for distributing supplies to the troops, although at sea, the Quartermaster works on the ship's navigation.**_

_**DEA – Drug Enforcement Agency.**_

_**IAB – Internal Affairs Bureau. They police the police.**_

_**Next up – they move in on the Diablos, but with the Sinaloa Cartel hiding in the shadows will the problem really be solved?**_


	8. Chapter 8

_**Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed/messaged me about the story so far.**_

_**There is some description about a brain tumour in this one; I know most people have some experience with cancer and that it can be a sensitive topic, so I'm sorry if the chapter upsets anyone. Brain tumours differ greatly in different cases, depending on where on/in the brain they are and what areas they affect. I'm not a doctor so lack any **_**real**_** medical knowledge; my basic knowledge is garnered from a family member who has a tumour that is inoperable but thankfully treatable.**_

_**NCIS first aired in 2003 so I'm setting Tony's arrival at NCIS as being **_**after**_** the invasion of Afghanistan but **_**before**_** the war in Iraq. Not sure how accurate those dates would be in canon but that is what I'm going to guess at.**_

_**This one is a bit description heavy. There's no drama in this chapter; it is all about explaining the crime and the people behind it…their motives and means and setting up for the next chapter when they will go after the big guns.**_

_**On with the story…**_

* * *

><p>Gibbs and Tony had made it into the Navy Yard before the sun was truly up in an effort to pool all their information together and work on a plan of attack against Aikers and the criminal network that seemed to be spreading its tendrils throughout Norfolk Naval Station.<p>

The Quartermaster, Allen Bradford, was an old friend of Henson, both having grown up together, first through school and then through basic training for the USMC. They had both done their tours of duty with the same battalion, but they had never served within the same unit; the two agents were convinced that the Marines' involvement with the guns must have started _on_ base.

"I think we have a motive," Gibbs said, scrubbing at his eyes. He may have ordered an early night for DiNozzo but his own mind had not settled down; he spent half the night shaping wood in his basement and the other half looking through some files he had taken home with him.

"That's good," Tony looked up; there were so many unanswered questions to the case that any revelation could only be a good thing.

"Bradford's wife is dying of cancer; apparently there's an experimental drug she was on that helped her through the worst of the symptoms and might let her live a little longer, but the insurance company won't pay out anymore."

Throughout his time at NCIS, Gibbs had come across all sorts of motives and it was always the well-intentioned ones that left a bitter taste in his mouth; good people in desperate situations resorting to even more desperate measures in an effort to help their loved ones.

If they could get a good case together with sound evidence supporting it, then Bradford's wife would most likely be left to die alone as her husband faced years in prison for several serious offences; judging by the lengths Bradford was prepared to go to in order help her live for _perhaps_ a couple more months, it was clear that he would be devastated.

It really did seem as though the road to Hell was paved with good intentions!

"That would do it," Tony said quietly with real empathy behind his tone that Gibbs wondered if DiNozzo had suffered through something similar or if it was simply another instance of the man's quiet compassion; it was a side he first seen when he had been gently dealing with Miss Kadare back in Baltimore.

"This case is going to hit Bradford and Henson hard but we're probably not going to manage to arrest even _one_ member of the Cartel that is truly responsible for this," Tony shook his head in frustration.

Gibbs knew that was most likely true; so far the only tangible link they had to the Sinaloa Cartel was Aikers, but even that was through his father and they had no evidence that suggested the two were even close.

The Cartels all managed some degree of security for their higher echelons both inside Mexico and beyond the Border due to the successive layers that acted as buffers between the basic soldiers and those pulling the strings. Aikers' father was one man who was likely to be fiercely protected; they would have to hope the same couldn't be said for his son.

"We'll shut down the smuggling ring, DiNozzo," Gibbs promised with a ferocity to his tone that left no room for doubt. "No more military grade hardware killing our men and women on Border Patrol or working for the DEA or ICE. _That_ is the main priority."

"Yeah, I know," Tony conceded, still not liking the idea that there were some powerful criminals behind the gun-trafficking and the deaths related to it that were likely to avoid the prison cell and overalls that rightfully belonged to them.

"Fornell's people are still watching the base, making sure Aikers doesn't rabbit; he's on his way in and Best and Richardson are going to bring in Bradford as quietly as they can. They're going to pick him up from the hospital when he's visiting his wife," Gibbs informed the younger man who was glaring away his frustration at a stack of financial-based paperwork.

"Discretion is probably for the best under the circumstances," Tony murmured, distracted. "It doesn't make sense."

"What?" Gibbs asked, confused.

"If Bradford decided to become an amateur arms dealer so that he could get some money together for his wife's medications, then where is the money? I've been looking, trying to find evidence of any money coming and going from his accounts, any change in spending habits, and I can't find anything even remotely helpful!"

"Nothing?" Gibbs asked sceptically. Henson didn't have much in his accounts, certainly not the expected earnings of an arms-dealer, but there had still been more than there should have been.

"Nothing as in literally nothing!" Tony emphasised. "He has just shy of a hundred bucks left on one of his overdrafts, and that is nowhere near enough to keep his wife on that drug-trial. He's taken out a second mortgage, he has two other overdrafts, both of which are completely maxed out and he's late for payments on both of his credit cards; if he's been getting money, where the hell is it?

"He can hardly walk up to the hospital running the drug-trials and say _'hey, I'm the guy that couldn't even afford to buy a lottery ticket last week and now I thought I'd pay you in one hundred dollar bills, is that ok?'_ We need to find out how Bradford and Henson hid their money."

"Well, now we can ask him," Gibbs nodded towards the elevator where Fornell and his agents flanked a rather pale and shaky looking Quartermaster.

* * *

><p>Tony had been surprised that Gibbs hadn't relegated him to the observation room alongside Agents Best and Richardson, but he happily found that his view from just across the table afforded him better access to Bradford and all the subtle nuances in his behaviour and body language; a stalking, angry Marine rapidly firing off disturbingly perceptive questions was clearly useful in interrogation, but he could distract even the most observant of agents from seeing everything that was going on.<p>

What had really pleased him, however, was the look on Fornell's face when _he_ had been consigned to the wrong side of the two-way glass. The FBI Agent might be damn good at his job, but that didn't mean Tony always wanted to play nice; he had a feeling that his time at NCIS would see many more incidents of one-upmanship with their _'friends'_ over at the Hoover Building.

He knew that the Senior Agent was going to lead the questioning and that if he wanted Tony's input, he'd make it more than clear, so Tony was quite content to sit back and listen to the story, trying to fit it together with whatever evidence they had managed to scrape together.

"I've been looking at your bank accounts," Gibbs said with a mildness and indifference that even Tony found himself being taken in by. "Your wife is dying," Gibbs said without a hint of the empathy that he was really feeling, knowing that he too would have done anything to save his family, be it from disease or from drug-dealing criminals of Mexican Cartels.

The Quartermaster looked up at the mention of his wife and Tony could read the remorse etched in every one of the lines that creased their way across his forehead and drew his mouth down in unspoken sadness; Tony guessed that even with the benefits she had managed from the drug-trials, her time was coming to an end.

"You wanted to keep her with you for as long as you could, and you wanted her to spend what was left of her life in comfort; no one can fault you for that," Gibbs finally looked up from shuffling through papers that he really had no need to organise. "But the insurance company refused to continue to cover the costs of the drug-trial and you were desperate.

"Then you realised what a gold-mine you were sitting on; all day you spent your time on base surrounded by a stockpile of ammunition that no one was using. Rifles and side-arms and frag grenades and military-grade explosives can all bring in a tidy profit if you can find the right buyers.

"So you and your friend Henson started working out the details, and you decided that there was always a market for weapons, even locally; you approached a known criminal organisation and you offered them US military-grade weaponry for a price. Do you know what that price was?" Gibbs asked disdainfully as he went back to the files in front of him.

"This was the price," he spat with contempt as he threw down several large glossy photos in front of Bradford, all of them of different crime scenes but all of them containing a similar image. "These are the people who _really_ paid for your little foray into arms-dealing; some of these people were no more than kids." He purposefully picked out one photo and placed it on top of all of the others.

"This is Harry Shavers; he was twelve years old and do you want to know how he died? He was playing basketball with some of the other kids from his neighbourhood when a car drove by and opened fire on them. One member of a rival gang got shot in the arm; three kids were shot. Harry here died before the paramedics could even get to the scene; his fourteen year-old friend, Carlos, will never walk again.

"Hell of a price," Gibbs finished with a hushed but deadly tone as he looked at Bradford. The Quartermaster was clearly upset by the photographs, trying to look anywhere but at the image of a bloody, twelve year old. Gibbs was glad to see the man's remorse, not because he thought it would change anything he'd done, but because guilt was something he could work with much more than anger; the guilt of a remorseful man could easily be used against him.

"These are just the bystanders," Gibbs continued. "If this was all we had, then the local PD would have been investigating and they would probably have missed a hell of a lot of links here. This is a dead Marine," he produced another glossy image, the skull clearly shining brightly through the blood as it lay in fragments around the man's head. "He makes this _my_ case, and I'm going to get nothing less than the truth."

Bradford looked to be more affected by the image of the dead Marine than of the child; Gibbs wasn't surprised. When he had done his background searches on the man the previous day, he had found that Bradford and their dead Marine had served together in Charlie Company during their last two tours.

The man could not tear his eyes away from the photo in front of him, but at the same time he could not help the feelings of disgust and shame and anger that passed across his face as he fought to tear his gaze away from the bloody image.

He knew that he was caught, knew that the evidence was stacked up against him and he knew that there was nothing he could do about it.

They thought they had been clever, selling weapons that had been ear-marked for decommission and would be missed by none if they played it well, but once the Cartel started giving them a wish-list and dire consequences for failing to deliver, they had to fill the more extensive orders by taking from the armoury on base.

"He wasn't supposed to be there," Bradford finally said, still looking at the photograph and chewing on his bottom lip in his distress.

Gibbs and Tony shared a look; they knew they had him now!

"It was all supposed to be so easy," Bradford lamented, tears beginning to pool in the corners of his eyes.

"How did you get started in it all?" Gibbs asked, quietly and with a rare mildness to his tone, not wanting to shake Bradford out of his imminent admission.

"There are always weapons that are waiting to be decommissioned; some of them are just faulty, some of them get hauled back from an enemy's weapons stash overseas…hell, sometimes we even have the _cops_ give us the guns they bring in off the street if they run out of storage room, because where is safer to store a small arsenal than a military base," he stated with cynicism.

Gibbs nodded as he made a brief note to look into just how many guns they were talking about.

"We always got more money for the weapons that were US Military issue; they were faulty, but you can get a whole load of guns together and dismantle them, replacing faulty parts with working ones. The trigger mechanism might not work on one gun but you can replace it with one from another where the barrel keeps on jamming.

"It always took a lot of time but the money was good because the end product was normally a hell of a lot better than some Third World battered AK47 or a wildly inaccurate Uzi that had been lifted from some street gang."

"Where did you find the time to do this?" Gibbs asked; he knew that Bradford had help, and he knew that he needed the man to admit to it. "You had a job to do and a wife to look after," he reminded the Quartermaster, not at all afraid of reminding the man of his wife's failing health.

"Henson used to bring parts to the house; Mel was in the hospital by then and no one ever really comes by the house anymore. The garage was hidden from view and we could get a few of the guns put together there. Any left overs went back to the armoury to await decommission; it would have been too suspicious if there was never _anything_ to destroy."

"How did you get the Diablos involved?" Gibbs asked, pushing for an answer that could lead them towards evidence more substantial than the testimony of a guilty man.

"Henson and me…we grew up in DC, in the same neighbourhood. It was pretty rough, a lot of gangs all wanting control of the same crappy neighbourhood and every available street corner so they could sell whatever drugs they managed to get their hands on. The thing is, to be powerful, they needed men; they started building up their very own army."

"And Henson signed up," Gibbs stated rather than asked.

"It was different for him; I spent most of my time in school or working, trying to bring in a little extra money. Henson, he only lived with his dad but they managed to have a little more money than most of the other families living on the same street, but it sure as hell wasn't because the old man worked his ass off trying to support his son.

"His dad was an asshole, a violent, junkie asshole who made his money by dealing crystal meth right out of his own living room. Have you ever smelt that crap? The smell gets everywhere and the drug seeps into everything and every surface is infected with it, something as small as picking up the remote and then biting a nail could get that crap into your system.

"It used to make him sick, staying there, _physically_ ill; so when I was working and we couldn't hang out, he needed a distraction…anything to stop him from going home to _that_. He found a distraction with the Diablos," Bradford shrugged sadly. "He never did an initiation or anything; he didn't _join_ them…he just hung out with them.

"He was maybe seventeen when his father died and he moved out to the country to live on his grandfather's farm, but he stayed in touch with me and I know he stayed in touch with some of them."

"So when you needed a buyer, he hooked you up," again, Gibbs was stating rather than asking. "Whose idea was it in the first place?"

"Mel, she was really sick, and I knew that she wasn't going to last forever, but just because the cancer was inoperable it didn't mean there wasn't anything that could help her. The tumour was growing…no surgeon could get to it without cutting through half of her brain, radiotherapy wasn't shrinking it and chemo wasn't helping; she was dying, but it was the treatment that was killing her.

"The tumour is putting a lot of pressure on her brain, pressing against it and causing grand mal seizures and fits; she lost some of her mobility, her ability to concentrate was gone and her moods would change so radically that it used to give me whiplash.

"Then the doctor put her on a drug-trial; he said that it probably wouldn't work and that there could be further side-effects, but by that time there was nothing else to do other than take the risk. It worked; it wasn't perfect and she still had problems with her mobility, but she could _move_ and she could think clearly and she wasn't always so angry or depressed.

"But then the insurance company refused to carry on paying for what they called an _'experimental treatment'_. She came home and she got worse again; I knew I had to get her back on that drug trial, and I did everything in my power to get her back on it. She's still not as mobile as she was and so she's still in the hospital, but she'll be out of there soon.

"She _is_ still dying, Agent Gibbs, I know that, but now she's dying as _her_, not as someone inhabiting her body and mocking her beautiful spirit; she'll die as the woman I know, the woman I married, the woman I _love_! There was never any doubt that I would do _anything_ in my power to help her. I asked Henson for help, and he helped; no matter what, I can never hate him for _that_," Bradford finally finished, wiping a hand gently across the glossy image of the dead Marine.

Gibbs hadn't missed the emphasis at the end _or_ the tortured look directed down at the photograph. He looked over to Tony and saw that he hadn't missed any of it either, he was staring at the photo in silent contemplation, his brow furrowed. Eventually he looked up at Gibbs, trying to gauge whether or not the Senior Agent was on the same page as him.

"He was your friend," Tony quietly stated after receiving a subtle nod from Gibbs.

Bradford looked up at the man who had broken the silence; he knew the other Agent was not referring to Henson, but to the man in the picture.

"He wasn't supposed to be there," he repeated brokenly.

"How did Aikers get involved, Allen?" Tony asked quietly but firmly, trying to get the man focused on the real crux of the matter. The sale of weapons awaiting decommission to a DC street gang was one thing, but the sale of military-grade hardware, which was supposed to be for US troops overseas, to a criminal organisation as powerful as the Sinaloa Cartel carried with it all sorts of far-reaching consequences, particularly for those in Border Patrol and the DEA who were tasked to keep the Border safe and clear.

Genuine fear crossed the Quartermaster's face.

Since entering the room, Bradford had shown a multitude of emotions: guilt, remorse, anxiety and uncertainty, even the odd glimpse of fear at finally being caught out and being forced to face the consequences.

The fear on his face brought about by the mention of Aikers' name had been more than a fleeting emotion; the man was terrified down to his very core and for the first time since starting the interview, Gibbs worried that he might not get the information he so desperately needed from Bradford to close down the smuggling ring once and for all.

"Yeah, we know about Aikers; we know _all_ about Aikers," Gibbs said sardonically in an effort to show that they were not at all worried about the man _or_ his connections.

"Henson got us selling the weapons with the Diablos and we got some money rolling in, but it was only just enough; I was still having to rely on my overdrafts and my credit cards to help pay for the meds and the hospital care. We knew we needed to make more money but we were limited by what came in for decommission; there was nothing else we could sell…or at least, we _thought_ there was nothing else we could sell.

"I don't know how Aikers found out about us, I swear, but I always figured that it was the Diablos. One day he just came up to us, me and Henson, and he told us that things were going to change," he laughed humourlessly. "Well things sure as hell changed!"

"How?" Gibbs prompted after the man had been quiet for too long.

"He said we needed more."

"More weapons?" Tony clarified.

"More _everything_," Bradford gesticulated, waving his arms wildly as he felt himself get more and more worked up. "We told him that we didn't have access to the things he wanted, but he said we did…he said we had a whole arsenal at our disposal. We tried to back out, tried to tell him that we weren't interested, but he wasn't having any of it. Then he told us who he was working for."

"He threatened you," Gibbs stated; he and Tony had talked earlier, played around with ideas, discussing how two Marines had become involved in the first place and how things had snowballed into a deal with the Cartel. So far, their conjecture seemed pretty accurate.

"I couldn't go to prison, Agent Gibbs…I _can't_ go to prison; my wife _needs_ me," he said brokenly.

"You're right, she _does_ need you, but you _can_ and _will_ go to prison," Gibbs assured the Quartermaster.

Bradford dropped his head towards the table, where shaky hands stopped him from banging his head. He scrubbed furiously at the tears that threatened to fall as he helplessly tried to claw his way back to some degree of self-control; it was an impossible task.

Everything was falling away from him: his wife, his career and now his freedom. He didn't really care too much about the last two, although he knew he would later, years down the line; all he truly wanted at that moment was to hold onto his wife, to kiss her and to promise her that everything was going to be ok, no matter how well he knew it was not the case.

"I won't give evidence against Aikers; I can't," he promised quietly, mumbling through hands that were still holding his head in his despair.

Gibbs and Tony shared another look; they could both hazard a guess as to the man's reluctance.

"Your wife is dying," Tony pointed out with a great deal of effort being made to mask the sympathy he felt for a good man who had turned to desperate measures to help his wife. "Soon, she'll be in a place where _no one_ can threaten her."

Bradford looked up and stared into the green eyes of the younger man; his gaze was so much easier to maintain than that of the gruff Senior Agent opposite him. He knew the truth of the words and could feel his heart breaking a little more at being forced to hear that truth from a stranger.

Tony looked briefly to Gibbs asking silently for permission to play on a hunch; they needed a damning statement from Bradford to give a judge something to sign off on when they went looking for a search warrant.

Gibbs' eyes narrowed slightly as he tried to figure out DiNozzo's plan. He had offered the younger man a job because back in Baltimore he had learnt to trust in him, his abilities and his instincts; it was time to reap the benefits of such a decision.

He nodded ever so slightly, not wanting to give Bradford a sign that anything was up.

"Aikers took over and things changed," Tony continued, regaining eye contact and using the own man's words to speak to him. "_Everything_ changed! You weren't getting any more money but more people were in danger…people you _cared_ about. He threatened you wife, you job, everything and anything to get you to make _him_ money.

"The guns you and Henson sold were being sold to petty street criminals. The Diablos spent just as much time shooting each other as they did looking for rival gangs; criminal on criminal with poor innocents like Harry Shavers sometimes getting caught in the crossfire."

Tony was happy to catch the man flinch at the mention of the dead twelve-year-old, but Bradford never looked away. He could see a fiery anger burning away behind the man's dark eyes, feel the intensity of it building as Tony did his best to stoke it, reminding him of everything that Aikers had taken away from him and would still take from him.

"Then Aikers came in and it wasn't just guns destined for decommission; there were rifles and frag grenades and anti-personnel mines all on their way over the Mexican Border. All on their way to be used against rival Cartels and anyone they felt needed to be taught a lesson; all on their way to be used against US Border Patrol, DEA and ICE Agents.

"You promised to _serve_ your country, Allen. You promised to _protect_ your country, from _all_ threats; foreign _and_ domestic. You failed!"

Tony waited quietly for that to sink in. Bradford had glowing reports, all commentating on the man's devotion to his country and to his brothers-in-arms; the man had seemingly once valued patriotism.

"US Agents are being killed because of _your_ actions; a US Marine from _your_ Company is dead because of _your_ actions; your _wife_ will die alone because of _your_ actions." Tony paused again, watching as agony creased through the man in front of him. "Aikers changed everything and made it impossible for you to fulfil your vows, either to your country or to your wife. Aikers has taken _everything_ you value while he hides in the shadows like a coward, a disgrace to his uniform and his oath, and _still_ you defend him."

Gibbs resisted raising an eyebrow at the way DiNozzo had used the man's patriotism and duty against him; the younger man had no military experience other than a brief stay at Rhode Island Military Academy in his youth, but it was interesting to hear the fervour of his words, which matched so many serving men and women he had met both during and after his own time in the Corps.

It was clear that Bradford was torn; he was clearly full of loathing towards Aikers, but at the same time he obviously feared the man's contacts. It became clear as soon as he had made his decision as for the first time since Bradford had entered the room, he was at peace.

"Like I said, I'm pretty sure he found out about the guns through his contacts," Braford's voice shook slightly as he mentioned Aikers' _'contacts'_.

"Contacts inside the Diablos?" Gibbs questioned, hoping to get some more clarity before they went after Aikers.

"I guess," Bradford shrugged apathetically; it was clear that his fight had deserted him. "He never told us and by that stage it really didn't matter; by that stage the Cartel was involved. _You've_ heard all the murder statistics about Ciudad Juárez and just what those Cartels do to people who cross them; no way was I going to risk my Melanie like that."

"So you did what they wanted you to do," Gibbs stated.

"What else was I going to do? These guys have people everywhere; there was no way in hell that I was going to make Mel a target for them. So yeah, I did what they wanted me to, and so did Henson. Harrison," he gestured towards the photo of the dead Marine. "Henson messed up an order and Aikers and his friends were pissed. Harrison came into the armoury to see me only he found Aikers and one of his friends…_discussing_," he struggled for the right word, "things with us."

Gibbs arched a brow but didn't interrupt; it was evident from the man's tone that there had been less discussion and more threatening. He looked to Tony and received a small nod that showed he understood what hadn't been said; the Senior Agent was never likely to willing hand over his right to interview suspects, but he was glad his latest recruit seemed to have a similar intuitive grasp to his own.

"I tried to tell Aikers that Harrison wasn't a threat, that he didn't need to be involved, but he and his friend," he spat contemptuously, "they said that they weren't taking any chances. They tried to make me and Henson shoot him, but I couldn't," he shook his head sadly as he thought of his former brother-in-arms. "Henson didn't have the same problem."

The two agents shared a look; clearly _that_ was what Bradford could find himself hating Henson for.

"How did you keep the missing weapons hidden?" Gibbs asked.

"Aikers ordered me to mess with the paperwork; with the war in Afghanistan everything was being brought in in bulk and things were pretty hectic. It was easy enough to make it seem like a shipment had disappeared somewhere between the factory and the armoury or in transit overseas; we put them in trucks that were supposed to be ferrying guns for decommission to get them off base. As far as I know, the Diablos and Aikers saw to getting them across the Border."

"You didn't ask?" Gibbs wondered.

"Would you?" Bradford laughed humourlessly. "I kept my head down and did what I was told; I got my money and put in a new account I set up for my wife to pay for her participation in the drug-trial. I was only going to do it until she was…until she…I wasn't going to do it forever," he finally said, unable to voice that his wife's death would save her from feared reprisal and that he would be free to tell Aikers where to go.

A knock at the door had Gibbs eyes narrowing his eyes at the interruption; _'Rule 22: never _ever_ bother Gibbs in interrogation'_, had become infamous throughout members of the MCRT, so much so that even Director Morrow tried to avoid breaking it.

Fornell stuck his head in and gestured for Gibbs and Tony to leave; the two men exchanged a brief glance in an effort to see if the other was any the wiser, but both men were clueless.

"Is Aikers still at the base?" Gibbs asked once in the corridor, thinking that could be the only cause for the interruption, as it had been the FBI responsible for placing a tail on the GySgt.

"Aikers is fine; my men still have him placed at the base. A body has just been found handcuffed to the railings of a local basketball court; ID indicates that it is Henson. Bastards decapitated him and his head hasn't been found; Doctor Mallard has gone to fetch the body and bring him back for autopsy where he can hopefully confirm ID.

"I don't need to tell you that this is classic Cartel signature, Jethro; a brutal murder, the beheading and then leaving the body in view for everyone to see. This isn't just about getting rid of someone who might betray them, this is a warning for everyone, _us_ included," the FBI Agent stressed his point with a stern gaze levelled towards the NCIS Agent who was known to ignore the threats his job sometimes brought with it.

"Once I found out it could be Henson, I tried to find Parks to see if he was still in the picture; I couldn't get through. According to his secretary, he's not been in the office today or yesterday; I sent two agents to his house but he's not answering his door.

"Parks is either long gone or six feet under, Jethro," Fornell said gravely. "Metro dispatch informed me that over the past two days, five members of the Diablos have been put in body-bags, two of them were beheaded and one of them had his eyes, his ears and his tongue cut out; I think the message in _that_ one is pretty clear."

"Yeah, in this case it says to everyone else that they should see nothing, hear nothing, and speak nothing," Tony stated quietly. "They're cleaning up."

"Yes they are," Fornell confirmed, seeing Jethro nod his head in agreement. "Things are getting pretty dangerous and any potential witnesses or turncoats are being removed or threatened into silence; thing is, we don't know if Aikers is staying on base to give himself a firm alibi or if he's scared to leave and make himself a target."

"Bradford's wife?" Gibbs and Tony asked at the same time.

"Safe," Fornell assured them, resisting the urge to smile at their surround sound imitation; DiNozzo and Gibbs were clearly on the same page about more than just interrogation techniques. "I've got two agents watching her hospital room and her doctors and nurses are being vetted. She should be secure enough there, but if she isn't then I don't know what else we can do; she's too sick to move."

"Bradford is our best bet as our witness then," Tony said, looking back towards the door.

"If he knows his wife's life rests in our hands he might be more willing to cooperate," Gibbs stated. "It is obvious that the Cartel is cleaning up after themselves and eliminating any _potential_ threats rather than reacting to an _actual_ betrayal; maybe this will convince him he needs to act now."

"That's our best bet," Fornell agreed and he couldn't hide his smile when he saw DiNozzo nodding absentmindedly, as he actually _agreed_ with the FBI Agent.

"DiNozzo, get a judge to sign off on an arrest warrant for Aikers and a search warrant for his home address and his room on base. Then find out what you can from the cops over at Metro about the murdered Diablos and go to Ducky as soon as he's finished the autopsy; I want to know if that is Henson and I want to know what Ducky knows as soon as he knows it. Got it?"

"Rule 22? Tony asked with a mischievous smirk.

"Knock first," Gibbs rolled his eyes.

"So…some rules have exceptions?" Tony clarified, still grinning.

"Only if _I_ say they do," Gibbs replied with a dangerous grin of his own. "My orders don't, DiNozzo, and you _will_ follow them."

"Aye, aye, Sir!" Tony responded with a mock salute.

Gibbs rolled his eyes once again before reaching over and swatting Tony on the back of his head. "Send all evidence to Abby, along with a Caff-Pow, and keep checking in with her to see what she's managed to find out. Fornell," he turned towards the FBI Agent. "We're going to speak with Bradford."

"Of course, Jethro; I love it when you ask so politely," he opened the door and sat down in the chair that Gibbs had previously occupied in a childish effort to get a rise out of the stoic man.

The narrowing gaze and the tightening jaw told him he'd been successful.

* * *

><p>Tony felt exhausted; he had run all over the place, linking up with the Detective in charge of the Diablo murders. Five dead bodies racked up a hell of a lot of paperwork and Tony had been forced to trawl through it all in a search for clues that linked the dead men to Aikers or the Cartel.<p>

As with Baltimore and every other PD he had ever worked with or alongside, evidence processing took a lot longer than it seemed to at NCIS; Tony had organised to have all the evidence shipped over to Abby and she was already working her way through the pile.

The Forensic Specialist was undoubtedly exceptional at her job, but Tony wondered just how she managed to get through everything that was piled on her desk so quickly; surely Caff-Pows could only get her so far!

Ducky had not long finished the autopsy and the findings had been grim. DNA had confirmed that the body was Henson and Ducky discovered his death had been a painful, drawn-out affair; no doubt the Cartel were eager to know just what had been said while the man had been in custody.

Gibbs and Fornell had finished their interview with Bradford and the man had eventually capitulated to their demands, promising to give any and all knowledge he had in exchange for his protection, the protection of his wife and no jail-time.

Regardless of the last stipulation, the Quartermaster was _still_ facing the very likely possibility of jail-time; it all depended on what sort of deal he could work out with the DA. Even if he _was_ ever sentenced, he was likely to serve his time in solitary in an effort to keep him protected from anyone in Gen. Pop. who might have been paid by the Cartel to silence him before the trial was over.

The two Senior Agents had gone to Norfolk to get Aikers and bring him into custody, hoping to find out whether he was hiding in the safety of a military base filled with trained Marines, or if he was simply trying to make life easier for himself by getting the Cartel's soldiers to clean up after him.

Aikers was going to be difficult to crack; on the one hand he was a supposedly respectable GySgt for the USMC, on the other hand he was definitely involved in major arms-dealing with one of the most feared Cartels in all of Mexico. Inside of the criminal organisation, he was either desperately trying to prove himself, which could lead to all manner of unpredictable behaviours and associations, _or_ he was protected by his father, a highly respected member of the Sinaloa elite.

Cracking him would probably take more than Gibbs' _Deathly X-Ray Glare_ and Fornell's sardonic eyebrow lift.

Getting the warrants had been his first priority and he'd had no problem there, but after that Tony had been left to gather all the information they had and try to put it all together in one comprehensive bundle.

He felt almost honoured that Gibbs had trusted him to get everything sorted out on his own, although he knew that, being short-handed with his team, the Senior Agent didn't really have a lot of choice.

Tony had yet to hear the man bring out a rule in the forties, but he felt that with the violent turn the case had taken, it would not be long now. The Cartels all had vicious reputations if they had been crossed; innocent women and children killed simply to portray a message or a dozen Mexican Federales killed in retaliation for one dead criminal spoke to the mind-set that seemed to permeate the Cartels.

He reached into his desk and searched for the forms Gibbs had given him the other day; maybe he should change his next-of-kin details before the case earned itself an even bloodier reputation.

Gibbs would be back soon and he would no doubt require an update from him concerning all the information he had been gathering together; maybe he could ask the Senior Agent then if he could put down his name.

He didn't really have a lot of options in DC.

Abby was nice and exuberant but Tony wasn't really sure he could ever even consider putting Abby down as his next-of-kin; the Goth had threatened to wrap him in cotton-wool and bubble-wrap after his little trip down the stairs and for Tony, those injuries were almost routine! Worse, he could easily picture her following through on her threat, taking the extra time to add a spider web design here and a skull and crossbones there.

Doctor Mallard was nice but fiercely stern when it came to anyone's health; on the one hand, Tony appreciated the concern, even as he felt uncomfortable with the almost grandfatherly attention. On the other hand, he didn't want to be rude to Ducky, and that would be inevitable if the man tried to stop Tony from carrying out his duty and constantly seeking to tie his to a desk after every bump and bruise.

After those two, he didn't really know anyone else in DC apart from Gibbs.

The Senior Agent had done a lot for him since he had come to DC and although the man was about as far from _'nice and approachable'_ as you could get, the idea of a _'nice'_ Gibbs was almost _more_ frightening than the omniscient, gruff Marine he usually portrayed.

However, the man had a good, solid head on his shoulders and Gibbs already understood the importance of the job to him and the oath he made; Tony knew that the Senior Agent would never ask him to sit on the side-lines and ignore the duties of his job unless he was quite literally at Death's door.

Gibbs had that same drive and devotion.

Tony was beginning to see a career for himself at NCIS and he was beginning to trust in Gibbs as he had learnt to trust in Sam. For the time being, Gibbs was the only real choice he _could_ make, but in a few more months, if things carried on as they were, Tony could easily foresee the impatient Senior Agent becoming one of the few people in his life that he could trust completely.

When that time came, Gibbs would be the _only_ choice he _would_ make.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Hope you enjoyed that chapter. Feel free to let me know what you think and point out any errors I might have missed; constructive criticism is welcome.<strong>_

_**And for those who need them...  
><strong>_

_**USMC – The United States Marine Corps.**_

_**DEA – Drug Enforcement Agency.**_

_**ICE – Immigration and Customs Enforcement.**_

_**Ciudad Juárez – a city in the North of Mexico, right on the Border and just South of El Paso. It is seen as one of the most violent cities in the world due to the crime rate which is directly related to the struggles between opposing Cartels looking to control major supply lines across the US Border.**_

_**MCRT – Major Case (or Crimes - depending on who you ask) Response Team.**_

_**GySgt – Gunnery Sergeant.**_

_**DA – District Attorney.**_

_**Gen. Pop. – a prison term short for**_** 'general population'**_**, it describes the majority of those incarcerated who are allowed to mingle in the courtyard and mess halls. There are other options, such as solitary or the psych. unit.**_

_**OK, so next up, they have a little difficulty getting Aikers, Tony gets a new next-of-kin and someone gets shot!**_


	9. Chapter 9

_**Thanks once again to everyone who has taken the time to read and review/message.**_

_**Sorry it has taken me so long to get around to posting this one; it's been half done for a while but I've been pretty busy. Nearly halfway through the lambing now but still have our work cut out for us; I feel like I've been sleep-walking through some days. Have already started chapter 10, and I hope to avoid quite the same delay.**_

_**So anyway, on with the story…**_

* * *

><p>Tony had been working his way through Aikers' phone records and found several calls to the same number; it obviously belonged to a disposable cell phone, as the number could not be traced back to anyone.<p>

He was comparing Aikers' phone records with Bradford's and Henson's, trying to find some tangible link that could take them all forward in the case, when Gibbs and Fornell exited the elevator.

They were alone.

"Where's Aikers?" Tony asked, a little hesitantly once he noticed Gibbs' tensed jaw.

"Good question," the Senior Agent answered before turning to glare at the FBI Agent.

Fornell was completely unaffected by the scowl directed his way and barely managed to suppress an eye-roll. "Norfolk is a very large military base, Jethro; the FBI do tend to have more than one case underway at the same time," he explained, voice thick with sarcasm. "We had as many men as we could afford to spare watching the entry-points, as ordered; if they'd been following him two steps behind then Aikers would have spotted them and had the opportunity to contact his friends in Mexico and warn them off."

"Instead, we've lost our only lead," Gibbs replied acerbically.

"We have Bradford's testimony and soon, we'll have the warrants necessary for searching Aikers' home address," Fornell reminded the incensed NCIS Agent.

"Warrants have come through," Tony said, waving the pieces of paper for both men to see.

"And why the hell am I only just finding out that a judge signed off on them _now_?" Gibbs demanded, turning his glare on the younger man.

Tony was not fazed in the slightest, all too used to being on the receiving end of glares and scathing comments. "I left you a text message; I didn't want to risk interrupting your interview with Aikers because…well, you know…Rule 22 and everything," he explained calmly.

Gibbs' ensuing grimace was little to do DiNozzo and everything to do with the increase in the reliance upon technology, in the job and beyond; why the hell did phones need to be so complicated? He slumped down at his desk and discreetly looked at his phone noticing a symbol of an unopened envelope; he scowled and shoved his phone into his draw before turning and viciously jabbing at the keys of his computer.

Tony wasn't quite sure what to do; he'd spent the entire time Gibbs and Fornell had been driving to and fro Norfolk rushing around trying to get all available information together in one place but he wasn't sure what the Senior Agent would want to do with all that data _without_ Aikers in interrogation.

He looked at Fornell who only shrugged in response before heading back towards the elevators without telling anyone where he was going.

Tony frowned.

"Gibbs?" he asked a little hesitantly. He'd witnessed the man's infamous temper before but had so far managed to avoid having too much of it directed straight his way.

The older man looked up, the scowl in his face not at all softened, before returning his gaze to his computer screen.

"I have the information you wanted," Tony gestured towards the thick pile of papers on his desk. "I've sent it all to your e-mail, but I have the hard copies if you'd rather," he offered, having long ago picked up on the man's reluctance to embrace the Age of Technology.

Without looking up, Gibbs extended his hand and gestured impatiently for Tony to hand over the files; he'd be damned if he was going to trawl through his in-box looking for the necessary e-mail. He made a concerted effort every now and then to try and catch up with the hundreds of e-mails that seemed to come his way, but after reading so many redundant inter-departmental memos about completely unnecessary sexual harassment seminars he tended to give up before the job was even half-way done.

Tony got up and handed over the files without saying a word, but he did smile to himself as he returned to his own desk; Gibbs was holding the files out at arm's length, squinting slightly as he tried to fight through the need to find the glasses hidden discreetly away in one of his desk drawers.

* * *

><p>The NCIS and FBI agents had slowly been working their way through phone records and bank statements and a whole forest worth of military records belonging to Henson, Bradford and Aikers, trying to find something that linked them all together in an effort to find the link to Mexico; to find Aikers, they needed to know who he would go to for help.<p>

Fornell's perusal of Aikers' latest bank statement was interrupted by his phone ringing; all eyes turned to him as he answered, hoping that whoever was on the other side had some intel on the missing Marine's location.

"We just got word from the new Quartermaster over at Norfolk; they've been doing inventory since we told them about Bradford and Aikers. There are numerous weapons missing from the weapons cache destined for decommission, but according to Bradford, they hadn't taken anything from the main armoury since Harrison's body was found; that _should_ mean that nothing is missing from there," Fornell left his sentence hanging.

"Should?" Gibbs clarified, wishing the FBI Agent would just spit out whatever information he seemed intent on holding back.

"Two Berettas and one M16A4 rifle," Fornell informed them grimly. Aikers wasn't just armed, he was armed with some serious firepower that he had been trained to use since he first started in the Corps.

"Is he armed to defend himself from the Cartel or is he just taking what he can carry for some easy cash as he's making a break for it?" Tony pondered.

Even Gibbs' infamous gut held no answers.

"I need a coffee," Gibbs grumbled as he looked back at the thick pile of paperwork he was attempting to sift through. "DiNozzo, with me," he ordered without looking behind him as he stalked towards the elevator.

The younger man had been going through the paperwork far longer than anyone else and he looked exhausted for it. The man might be whole and reasonably healthy, but he was still recuperating from the effects of a serious gunshot wound and the surgery that repaired the damage; a _full_ recovery took time.

"Black, no sugar," Fornell called after them.

* * *

><p>Tony saw for the first time just how well known Gibbs was in his favourite local coffee shop; despite the lunchtime rush, Gibbs had a server give him immediate attention. There were no smiles or pleasantries exchanged, rather, it was as if one party was doing everything within their power to appease the other party and get them the hell out of the shop before anything could even be said.<p>

He tried to hide his grin at the idea that Gibbs' infamous _'second 'b' for bastard'_ personality was known well beyond the confines of the Navy Yard.

As they exited the coffee shop, Tony's thoughts returned to the increasingly complex and dangerous nature of the case, from corrupt Marines and well-armed gang-bangers to a powerful Cartel with enough military-grade hardware to wage war on the Border States.

"Gibbs, I've been meaning to ask," he began hesitantly. He didn't _think_ that the older man would mind his final decision, but they were yet to truly know each other and it all felt a bit presumptive.

"Don't strain yourself, DiNozzo," Gibbs noted wryly after a long pause showed the younger man's hesitation to continue.

"I've been thinking about what you said the other day, you know, about me needing to find a new next-of-kin because Sam was too far away in Baltimore."

Gibbs nodded, glad to hear that the conversation had not been forgotten as he wanted that particular set of paperwork completed asap. He liked DiNozzo and wanted the man on his team for the long-haul, but he knew that would mean future hospital visits were unavoidable; the man seemed to attract trouble like no other.

"Well, the thing is I don't really know anyone in the DC area, so I wasn't really sure who to put down. There is no way in hell I'd put down Fornell's name for anything and Abby…well…she's already threatened to micro-chip me, wrap me in bubble-wrap _and_ cotton-wool and all sorts of other unmentionable things; I know _you're_ the one with the reputation, but _she's_ the one that can kill me without leaving a trace and that makes _her_ far scarier than you could _ever_ hope to be," Tony said emphatically before catching the raised eyebrow and deciding that the most sensible thing to do would be to carry on and pretend he _hadn't_ just say _that_.

"Doctor Mallard…Ducky," he corrected himself. "Well, he's like Abby only not as scary, unless he's going all doctor on you, which he would definitely do if he was listed as my next-of-kin because that's the kind of man Ducky is. Well, he'd actually do that even if he _wasn't_ my next-of-kin but then he'd just be fussing instead of being able to legitimately tell the doctors that they have every right to strap me down to the hospital bed and ply me with drugs until he gives me the all clear," Tony visibly shuddered at the thought.

"You're the only one I know that I _can_ put down as my next-of-kin and I was sort of hoping that you'd agree to do it," Tony finished in a rush. "I mean _you're_ the one that told me to put down someone's name and I just…" Tony paused as he realised the frown firmly etched on Gibbs' brow was probably not because the older man was thinking about refusing, but because there was a very likely possibility that Tony's request came across all wrong.

In between his rambling on the subject, Tony, who could usually be more than eloquent, had found a way to insult the one man whose name he _wanted_ on those forms.

"I didn't mean it like that," Tony said quietly, suddenly finding his shoes very interesting. Once he calmed down his breathing and rediscovered his courage he lifted his eyes to meet Gibbs' gaze. "They don't get it, but you do," Tony explained softly.

He was glad to see the frown disappear but was puzzled by the emotions that seemed to replace it; in those crystal blue eyes, Tony very clearly saw compassion and pity and he knew that concern was directed at him. _'Maybe he's questioning my sanity,'_ Tony thought to himself.

"I _am_ the job, Gibbs; I have been from the moment I graduated from the Academy. I have put so much of myself into this job and so much of this job has shaped me into who I am today.

"From the very first time I walked my beat in Peoria to this day, here, I've had more injuries than I can count; most of them small, some just plain accidents, some of them avoidable, and some of them beyond excruciating. Not once, even after I found myself bleeding out on a dirty apartment floor and drowning in my own blood with a bullet in my lung, did I ever regret doing my job.

"Before Sam, I never really had anyone to watch my back…no one _wanted_ to watch my back," he clarified. "I've looked after myself for a long time; I know my limits and I know when I need to do everything I can to push myself to _new_ limits. I know exactly what I'm capable of Gibbs, even when all I should want to do is curl up in a corner and cry, I just want to get back to doing my job.

"Abby and Ducky, they're nice people and I know they're trying to make me feel like I'm part of the team, but I don't really know what to do with their…concern, I guess," Tony confessed quietly, struggling for the right words. "It took me a long time to realise that when Sam was giving me orders about getting proper sleep in an actual bed, or glaring at me until I took my meds or taking me to the gun-range so that I don't go all lone gun-man-in-the-bell-tower when I was truly pissed off with some asshole from the Precinct, he was just concerned.

"And I could handle that. He wasn't hovering and he wasn't fussing and he wasn't pitying me; most of all, he let me do my job; he might have been more aware of my every step if I had a concussion or a busted rib, but he still let me work. And when I wasn't injured and was just fucked up, he didn't try to coerce me into seeing a shrink or taking time off work because he knew that I _needed_ to work.

"When I got thrown down those stairs, it was nice to know that Ducky already cares enough about me to give me a stern lecture and to try and look out for me…the same with Abby, but they both wanted me to sit out and let you do this with someone else.

"I work with _you_ now, and that makes you my partner; that means where you go, I go. I'm not going to turn that responsibility over to someone else just because I have a headache, not until I know that I'm doing more damage by staying in the game.

"I _know_ that you won't abuse any of the powers that come with being listed as my next-of-kin," Tony stated firmly, specifically thinking about the access to his personnel files and his medical files and everything in between. "And I know you won't try to bench me unless there is a damn good reason for it, because I know that _you're_ the job too, Gibbs. I want you listed as my next-of-kin because I know you understand and because I _trust_ you."

Gibbs stayed quiet, examining DiNozzo's face, analysing his words and scrutinising his tone. He was already used to the verbose nature of the man; DiNozzo could start by prattling off trivia about a movie he saw the night before and somehow break off into a tangent about how it reminded him of a case before coming back to another movie and a girl he once dated.

For all that DiNozzo talked a lot, he rarely ever said anything of substance.

When it came to the job, DiNozzo was better than good and delivered his information before goofing around.

When it came to anything even remotely personal, Tony could talk rings around anyone listening without revealing a single sustainable fact.

Gibbs didn't know what it was about the younger man's life that made him so closed off to people's curiosity and concern for him, but the effects were clear to anyone with an ounce of perception.

Tony sometimes seemed to do all he could to get in the spotlight; whether it was pulling pranks on the unsuspecting or saying something inflammatory just to witness the fallout, the man was very skilled at rapidly attracting every eye in the room.

An attractive woman was a target for that DiNozzo charm he's so fond of dishing out, happy when he got a coy smile or a sexy wink for his effort before smiling and offering his number to a woman that he would perhaps date twice before moving on to the next meaningless liaison.

So many people…_too_ many people believed that Tony was little short of an attention-seeking juvenile, with too much money and no real concerns in the world, who treated life like one big game.

But Gibbs knew better.

He had seen the younger man being fussed over by some lonely old woman who had the common decency to spare a few seconds fretting over his too thin frame and the dark circles under his eyes.

And how had Tony reacted?

He shrank into himself in a manner that not even Gibbs' steely glares could ever manage to incite.

Instead of soaking up the attention, Tony had tried to avoid all the motherly touches, brush off her concern and redirect her inquiries onto another topic. Ironically, he seemed to take Gibbs rather more unorthodox methods of showing concern with ease; the head-slaps and browbeating seemed to be something DiNozzo strived for on occasion.

Tony's discomfort with overt signs of concern directed _at_ him had been a revelation for Gibbs.

The Senior Agent already knew that Tony was not anywhere near as self-assured as he portrayed himself to be, but he couldn't imagine what had happened to him in his life that made him so unused to people showing him a little kindness.

DiNozzo clearly did not lack the understanding for compassion as he had shown himself to be empathetic by nature throughout the case in Baltimore and several times since. His confusion on the matter only seemed to appear when that compassion was directed at _him_, as though he deemed himself unworthy of such considerations.

He had never met DiNozzo Senior and, given the lack of a relationship he seemed to share with his son, Gibbs doubted he ever would; that didn't stop him from wanting a little one-on-one with him in the NCIS gym. Ever since he had his own daughter violently wrenched from his life, he couldn't understand _any_ parent throwing their child to the side as if they didn't matter when in reality a child should be one of the _most_ important parts of a parent's life.

Gibbs couldn't deny that when he first heard Tony's proposal about his next-of-kin, he had been disappointed to hear that he was only Tony's choice because the others had been crossed off the list as possibilities.

He couldn't deny that he had envied the way that DiNozzo and Jacobs had seamlessly worked together in Baltimore, each backing up the other without a moment's hesitation and without regret or doubt following their actions.

Gibbs hadn't found that sort of camaraderie since the Marine Corps, not even with Franks. He had learnt to trust Franks but the relationship had always seemed to be very much the mentor and the mentee; DiNozzo and Jacobs had that side to their professional life, but they had been equals in every other way. Neither man had been afraid to call the other up on their bullshit nor had there ever been any animosity after the fact.

The Senior Agent knew that he could be a demanding team leader and he wanted his subordinates to respect him enough to follow his orders when push came to shove; that didn't mean he wanted mindless drones. Most of the time the only people who called him up on his crap were Abby and Ducky; even they did so, more often than not, once the deed had been done.

Gibbs had little trouble believing that DiNozzo would not hesitate to tell him when he was going off the beaten track into the grey areas; he had certainly done so in Baltimore. He also knew that the younger man had enough respect for the chain of command to do so in the privacy of their own company, without an audience to witness any disagreement.

Part of that belief was entirely related to the sort of man he knew DiNozzo to be: dedicated and passionate and principled and wholly dedicated to the job. The man might be an expert at bending the rules to get his crook, but that didn't mean he was going to throw the law-book completely out of the window.

He recognised early on in Baltimore that DiNozzo was good at his job and he knew almost from the get-go, even when he had felt like shooting the young Detective for his impudence, that he was exactly the sort of man Gibbs wanted and _needed_ on his team; he would take one DiNozzo over a thousand Nixons, a hundred Blackadders and yes…even over ten Stan Burleys.

He successfully managed to hide his true emotions when he heard that Tony trusted him; he knew that to some degree already, as the man _had_ been prepared to move to DC and start a new career simply because Gibbs had offered him a job. The Senior Agent also knew that he had done a lot back in Baltimore to prove himself in helping to close down the human-trafficking ring and looking after Tony's injured partner; that sort of trust was wholly related to Gibbs' _professional_ abilities.

Being listed as Tony's next-of-kin and being witness to the younger man's almost painful confession about how his life had demanded he become more than adept at looking out for himself and knowing exactly how far he could push himself, showed trust on a far more _personal_ level.

He knew that he could not say _'no'_ to the man without far-reaching consequences on DiNozzo's ability to trust in him in the future; more than that, though, he didn't _want_ to refuse the man.

So he did the only thing he could: he agreed.

"Do you now?" he asked gruffly. He might like the kid and be more than happy that they were getting a better understanding of each other, but that didn't mean he was going to get mushy and sentimental; he had a reputation to uphold after all.

Tony looked at him apprehensively, not sure whether or not the older man had agreed or not.

"Well…are you going to give me the papers or not?" Gibbs asked, the small smile on his face belied the frustrated tone of his voice, allowing the younger man to catch a glimpse of how he really felt about the issue.

"They're in my desk," Tony grinned with relief. "Thanks for this, Jethro," he said quietly, using the man's first name in an effort to try and convey his gratitude and how much Gibbs' consent had meant to him.

"Anytime, Tony," Gibbs said sincerely, taking care to look his Agent in the eyes to ensure the younger man believed that. "Well let's get back to the bullpen; we've got a missing to track down."

"On your six, Boss," Tony said before falling into step alongside the older man.

Gibbs smiled at that before stating, "By the way, DiNozzo, if you think I'm the _soft_ option for your listed next-of-kin, then you'd better hope it is one hell of a long time before you need to find out just how wrong you are."

Tony saw and heard the promise in Gibbs' face and in his words and wondered what he'd let himself in for.

"Understood, Boss," Tony gulped.

* * *

><p>"Dammit!" Tony spluttered quietly as he returned the phone to its cradle none too gently. "We spent ages trying to get enough evidence together to get a warrant on that son of a bitch and <em>then<em> we spent ages trying to track the bastard down once he does a Houdini, and he gets pulled in by a security guard," Tony muttered with the slightest hint of disgust as he got off the phone.

"What the hell are you talking about, DiNozzo," came the exasperated response of the Senior Agent from across the bullpen.

"That was Reynolds from Metro PD; we spent a lot of time on the phone when I was trying to get the skinny on the dead Diablos. Anyways, he rang to let me know that they have Aikers in lock-up.

"Apparently, a security guard at one of the nearby malls saw him acting suspiciously in a hardware store and went over to talk to him when he noticed a gun sticking out of his belt. Luckily Aikers didn't see him until it was too late otherwise a lot of civilians could have been hurt in the crossfire; he certainly seems desperate enough to try and shoot his way out."

"A security guard?" Gibbs asked, just a little stunned and a whole hell of a lot pissed off as he glared at the mass of paperwork they had been needlessly trawling through for hours with no result.

"A security guard," Tony confirmed. "A _mall_ security guard," he clarified distastefully as he too glared at the stack of files that he had spent all morning going over in an effort to find a lead only for some ex-cop with a beer belly and a crappy pension to bring in their main suspect and render hours of paperwork obsolete.

"Anyway, Reynolds wanted to know if we want Aikers out of lock-up and sent over here or if we want to go there and interview him at the station; I said you'd prefer to have him transferred to NCIS custody," Tony informed the Senior Agent. "You would, right?" he asked, a little unsure with Gibbs' eyes trained on him and no words coming forth.

"I would," Gibbs agreed.

Tony sighed in relief and turned his attention back to his overflowing desk; he closed the files that he no longer needed and shoved them all to one side before turning his gaze to his computer to track down another potential lead. Ever since he had completed his next-of-kin forms he felt a lot more positive about his future at NCIS; it felt like a sure sign that he now had a person in DC that he could always rely upon. He would have to tell Sam about the change but he had no doubt that his former partner would be more than supportive about the decision.

"What are you doing now, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. He knew that Tony would not be returning to the paperwork they had been trawling through in an effort to find where Aikers would go to ground, so clearly the man was working on something else.

"Well, I thought we should probably try looking for our Mexican connection," Tony said. "I mean I know our case is supposedly all about the murder of a US Marine and the gun-smuggling out of Norfolk, but the Cartel were involved too and if they can take out half a dozen Diablos and coerce a few Marines into doing their dirty work then we should probably try to find the point man on the Cartel's side and bring him in before this goes any further."

Gibbs nodded; he agreed, he just wasn't sure how to go about getting that result. "Where are you looking?"

"I thought I'd look at flight manifests and see just who has flown in to DC from Mexico recently; I've been cross-referencing names with the dates Bradford gave me and then I've been trying to match ID with the description of our missing Cartel man with the one Bradford gave us.

"This guy, Rodriguez, he seems to be our best bet so far; he matches the description of the man Bradford saw with Aikers when Harrison was killed and his flights seem to correspond with _all_ the deals. I'm just checking with other agencies…" he trailed off as he worked his way through the information on his screen.

"Anything?" Gibbs asked as he made his way over to DiNozzo's desk. He was glad to see that the three FBI Agents had all stopped what they were doing to try and track DiNozzo's progress, looking a little sheepish that they hadn't thought to do something similar; it was always good to see someone from NCIS outthink men and women belonging to the largest of all the Federal Agencies.

"Well, would you look at that," Tony smiled widely. "He also happens to be on a DEA watch-list as a suspected member of a Cartel; looking at the file they have on him they don't have enough evidence to deny him entrance to the US but if they're watching Rodriquez, maybe we can find him and bring him in for questioning."

"Any other names stand out on the flights he's been on?" Gibbs asked, thinking about a possible partner. They still needed to know whether or not the Sinaloa Cartel was involved or whether it was simply a couple of people trying to make a name for themselves and get some money. If the Cartel was involved, they were going to need more than five agents looking into the cross-Border deals.

"There are none that stand out. I'm thinking Rodriguez is going his own way, trying to impress and speed up his way up through the ranks; there doesn't seem to be any real support network going on here and with the number of men on the Sinaloa payload, you'd expect a few foot soldiers to act as guards for the weapons."

"And Aikers?" Gibbs asked. They would need proof for a conviction but he was interested in hearing DiNozzo's theory.

"His father's a big name South of the Border; maybe it is a simple case of trying to prove himself better than or at least worthy of his father," Tony shrugged, finding that particular concept not at all alien to him.

"Well let's put an APB out on Rodriguez and talk to someone with the DEA and see what else they have on the guy. Aikers should be here soon but I want to let him stew in a holding cell for a while."

"On it, Boss," Tony said as he looked for the necessary number to call. "One question: do you ever deal with the local LEO's if you can avoid it or is that something I should just get used to now?"

"You got a problem with that, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked with one perfectly arched eyebrow.

"Not me, Boss," Tony denied quickly. He would have to make an effort to play nice with any DC cop he came across to try and dispel the image of all NCIS agents being like Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

* * *

><p>The office was quiet except for the odd agent using the calm to catch up on their paperwork and for the five agents pooling together all their information as they waited for information on their latest suspect.<p>

An agent with the DEA had supplied them with the licence plate of the rental car Rodriguez had picked at the airport before informing them that the man had lost his tail a few days before.

When Tony's phone rang, five sets of eyes immediately sprang to it with hope that they would finally have a solid lead that promised an end to the case.

They listened to the one-sided conversation and managed to figure out enough about the call to know that they had positive confirmation of their target, but they waited for Tony to hang up so he could confirm it.

"We've had a call; an undercover Vice cop from Metro recognised the plates from our BOLO on his rental; Rodriguez was last seen heading towards an old industrial park in Fairfax County, just off the I-95 near Springfield."

"I know the place," Gibbs replied; he'd visited a dump site there over eight months ago. "There's not a lot still standing in the area; can you help us get the manpower to search the place?" he asked Fornell.

"Sure," the FBI Agent agreed without hesitation. "We can get the local LEO's to cordon off the area and erect road-blocks just in case Rodriguez manages to give us the slip, and I'll call for a SWAT team to serve as back-up. Richardson, Best, call some of your friends over in the OCU and see if they can come and help with the search."

The two FBI Agents left to do just that while Gibbs asked another MCRT team leader who had his team finishing up their paperwork after their own long case had wrapped up. The site was too big for just a couple of agents to successfully search the area; hopefully they would at least find Rodriguez's car and narrow down the search to just one building.

"Gear up, DiNozzo," Gibbs instructed the younger man.

"On it, Boss," Tony replied as he holstered his side-arm and pocketed his badge.

* * *

><p>The derelict factory was long abandoned by the owners but far from being silent or unused; the strong winds brought the place to life with a multitude of sounds and there was plenty of evidence to suggest that many a homeless man had made the place his bed for the night.<p>

Plastic bags and bits of old newspaper were blowing across the cracked asphalt, and a half-open window was banging in the wind.

"The car is still a little warm," Tony said quietly as he removed his hand from the hood of the vehicle. "There's not a lot going on out here, Gibbs; he must have heard our engines."

"He knows we're here," the Senior Agent nodded before talking quietly into his radio, letting everyone know that they had found the likely building and ordering smaller groups to enter the various entrances in an effort to contain their suspect inside.

When everyone was set, they approached the building as quietly as they could. Even as the two agents attempted to slowly open the large, heavy door that blocked their entrance, the creaking echoed around the hollow interior.

Both men winced and halted their movements, looking for some sign that Rodriguez had heard their failed attempt at a silent entry. Once they were sure that there was no movement inside, they crept in, gun in one hand and torch in the other.

The only light in there came from their torches and from the moonlight flickering through the broken windows; the room dimmed every time a cloud covered the moon, throwing the rest of the factory's interior into shadows.

The factory was large and with many winding corridors and rooms that led away from the main workrooms in the centre. There was a lot of ground to cover and a lot of places for Rodriguez to hide. While Tony, Gibbs and two members of SWAT entered one of the dark workshops, several other NCIS and FBI agents as well as armed police were making their way through various other exits and entrances, each group trying to block off one of Rodriguez's potential escape routes.

Anything of value had long since disappeared from the place, leaving the building a mere shell of what it had once been.

Electrical cord had been stripped of the copper wiring by scrap-metal thieves, leaving nothing but a plastic shell hanging from the cracking walls and collapsing ceilings. Metal walkways that wound their way above the main workshops were rusted and in some cases dangling with only a thin, twisted edge of metal to keep the platform from crashing to the floor.

Part of the roof in one corner was missing a few sheets of corrugated iron, allowing some of the natural light from outside to illuminate a piece of rusting machinery that time and technology rendered obsolete long ago.

There were so many blind spots in the room, so many nooks and crannies where the light seemed afraid to venture; the torch-light only offered so much assistance and everyone felt on edge.

Gibbs spared a glance towards his Junior Agent, glad to note the man's steady gun-hand despite the anxiety they all had over Rodriquez's advantages both in knowing the layout of the building and in the safety that the shadows afforded the man.

The room was large, too large for four people to search it with any degree of speed. The two armed policemen who entered with them were separately working their way around the perimeter; the torches attached to their guns briefly illuminating the dark corners and finding no sign of Rodriguez.

A sudden glint caught Gibbs' eye; behind a pillar he could spot the barrel of a gun that had been briefly illuminated by the peripheral beam of someone's wandering torchlight. Gibbs could not see who was behind the pillar but he knew from the make that the gun did not belong to anyone in law enforcement.

He also knew that the gun was pointed at someone.

He turned to his side and saw DiNozzo a few metres away searching underneath one of the old conveyor belts for any sign of their suspect, completely oblivious to the gun trained on him.

The torchlight moved away and the gun barrel was no longer in view, but Gibbs knew it was still there.

"DiNozzo! Look out!" he shouted, cursing the fact that he couldn't get a bead on the target and hoping against all hope that his warning had not come too late.

The shot echoed around the room.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Thanks for reading; let me know what you think. If you spot any errors, (grammatical or situational) feel free to let me know and I'll do my best to fix them.<strong>_

_**For those that need them…**_

_**Rule 22 – Never, **_**ever**_** interrupt Gibbs in interrogation.**_

_**Beretta – standard sidearm for US Marines.**_

_**M16A4 – standard rifle for US Marines, although it is now being slowly phased out in favour of the M4 Carbine.**_

_**DEA – Drug Enforcement Agency.**_

_**APB – All Points Bulletin. A broadcast from one law enforcement agency to others; normally it is about a wanted suspect they want arrested, or a person of interest that they want to be picked up.**_

_**BOLO – Be On the Look Out.**_

_**LEO's – Law Enforcement Officers.**_

_**SWAT – Special Weapons And Tactics.**_

_**OCU – Organised Crime Unit.**_

_**MCRT – Major Case/Crimes Response Team.**_

_**Next up – the hospital and an inquisition, an interrogation with Aikers and a little trip to the shrink thrown into the mix.**_


	10. Chapter 10

_**Thanks once again to everyone who has taken the time to read and review/message/alert…**_

_**Hope everyone has a nice time over Easter.  
><strong>_

_**Sorry for the cliff-hanger ending; I know it was a little cruel, but it seemed like as good a place as any to end the chapter and it has been interesting hearing everyone's theories about what will happen.**_

_**Also, I know I promised an interrogation with Aikers in this one, but the chapter started to run a little long and so it will have to wait until chapter 11.**_

_**So…on with the story and we'll see if anyone got it right!**_

* * *

><p>The lull in action could not have existed for more than a split-second, but while the shot seemed to slow down time, the reaction seemed to pick up speed drastically, passing him by in a blur.<p>

The lone shot echoed straight down Tony's spine as he found himself being thrown back towards the rusting conveyor belt. He ignored the sharp pain that lanced its way through his head as he got unsteadily back to his feet and spun around, his gun-hand held steadfast in front of him aiming straight towards where he heard the shot originate. Pure instinct, learned from years of training and experience, kicked in.

The echoes from that first bullet hadn't even died down before the short, sharp bursts of controlled return-fire broke out, torch-light zeroing in on the location where that first shot originated and the brief but unmistakable sight of a muzzle-flash had caught the eyes of the two members of SWAT.

Tony barely took the time to notice that SWAT had secured the body and were calling in reinforcements. He didn't think the call would be necessary; there was nothing and no one else out here and the shots would have been unmistakable over the pre-existing silence.

"Gibbs?" Tony called quietly, afraid to hear the state his Boss was in but even more afraid that he wouldn't hear an answer.

He had been searching underneath a rusting conveyor belt, carefully shining his torchlight in all the darkened corners and over the dirty floor, looking for signs of recent footprints. Just as he had decided to move on to the next area of shadows, he heard Gibbs warning echo from behind him. Before he even had the time to respond a heavy weight barrelled into him, sending him flying headfirst into the conveyor belt; he'd managed to keep hold of his gun, but his torch rolled away, creating tumbling shadows on the surrounding environment as it went.

He had chosen to ignore the sharp pain pulsing through his forehead and worked on neutralising the threat before turning to find out his Boss' fate.

"Gibbs?" he called again quietly, kneeling over the prone form and hesitantly reaching for a pulse.

"I'm not one of your late-night pick-ups, DiNozzo, keep your hands to yourself," came a wry, pained tone from the dark.

Tony sat back, letting out a huge sigh of relief; he didn't think he could have handled it if Gibbs had died saving him.

"Are you ok?" he asked, grabbing his torch from nearby so he could properly assess the older man's condition. He didn't think Gibbs would appreciate being looked over by anyone, least of all his latest recruit, but Tony didn't really care much for the man's opinion right then; the man had brought Tony onto his team, and he would have to get used to what that would mean.

"Peachy," came the grouchy reply along with a barely suppressed groan as the older man tried to sit up.

Tony finally had his flashlight in his hand and passed the beam quickly over the other man, the bright red liquid staining his left shoulder instantly screaming for attention.

"You got shot," Tony needlessly pointed out, feeling the guilt beginning to pool in his stomach, making him feel leaden and nauseous all at once.

"Ya think, DiNozzo," came the sarcastic reply. Gibbs couldn't supress a moan as Tony pushed his top over the wound in an effort to staunch the bleeding.

"You got shot saving _me_," Tony stressed, his disbelief over the situation evident. He heard one of the SWAT guys call for an ambulance so he tried to focus his attention on making sure Gibbs was ok in the interim.

"I'm glad you can remember what happened all of two minutes ago; it will make writing up your report easier," the torchlight was directed solely at the injured Agent, but Gibbs didn't need any light to know what emotions were pasted across the younger man's face.

DiNozzo's feelings surrounding his self-worth were not evident because the man liked to bare his soul, but because his personnel file screamed of one incident after another where the man had recklessly risked his life without a moment of hesitation. Gibbs didn't need Sam Jacobs to translate _that_ particular branch of behaviour; it was all too similar to how his own had been after he had succeeded in taking his revenge against Pedro Hernandez and his life lacked any real purpose with his family gone and a return to active duty seemed impossible.

Franks had been there to drag him back from the brink and give his life meaning and purpose once again through working at NCIS; he would try to do the same for DiNozzo.

"Why?" came a completely bewildered Tony, unable to comprehend why a man like Gibbs would risk his life for a man he barely knew.

"A good memory tends to serve you well in this job, DiNozzo," Gibbs answered, being deliberately obtuse.

"Not the report, Gibbs," Tony responded with exasperation. "Why did you risk your life for me like that?" he asked, accidentally putting a little too much pressure on the wound, causing Gibbs to wince and lean away from the man. "Sorry," he apologised quietly.

"Because I don't want to have to break in another Agent," Gibbs replied; leaning against a stone pillar and closing his eyes, he tried to breath around his pain.

He was pretty sure the damage was minimal; muscle and tendon damage probably and blood-loss certainly, but he was equally sure that the bullet hadn't nicked the top of his left lung as breathing was easy and the only real pain came from the slight movement that came with respiration.

Despite his assessment, he was feeling incredibly light-headed and he couldn't focus his mind long enough to try and figure out why. He winced and instinctively tried to move away from the pain as he felt DiNozzo once more apply heavy pressure to the wound.

"I'm sorry, Gibbs," Tony apologised once more. "But it _is_ bleeding pretty heavily and we need to try and stop that."

Truth be told, Tony was alarmed at how much blood Gibbs was losing; the bullet must have nicked an artery.

He did not ease up on the pressure.

"Don't apologise," Gibbs managed to say somewhat evenly, in spite of the pain.

"Yeah, yeah; it's a sign of weakness, I know," Tony rolled his eyes. "Just so you know, I think that is one of your more ridiculous rules."

There was a small frown at that, but Gibbs had not reopened his eyes and Tony felt that the best thing to do was keep the Senior Agent awake and responsive.

"Can I ask you something?" he asked, nodding in gratitude to a member of SWAT who passed him some gauze for Gibbs' shoulder.

"You can _ask_," came a tired response.

"If _I_ did what _you've_ just done…" he didn't get the chance to finish.

"I would kick your ass, DiNozzo," Gibbs opened his eyes to level a glare at the younger man; considering the man's condition, the glare had a surprising amount of power behind it.

Of course, Tony was completely unaffected by it.

"That's pretty much what I figured," he grinned back.

"You ever even think about cashing out on my watch, DiNozzo, and we're going to have more than words," the Senior Agent threatened.

"So, I know we've sorted out who _my_ next-of-kin is, but the more important question right now is…who is _yours_?" Tony asked curiously.

"Ducky," Gibbs said with a bitter taste in his mouth; the kindly Doctor was an old friend, but the man could be a real pain in the ass when it came to healthcare. DiNozzo had sussed the man out pretty well when he had been trying to decide on his own next-of-kin; Ducky never could seem to understand Gibbs' need to just get on with the job, in spite of his injuries.

"Ha!" Tony didn't even try to hide his amusement as he pictured the lecture Ducky already had waiting in the wings. "Good luck with that," he offered with pleasure at the other man's obvious discomfort that had nothing to do a bullet and everything to do with the kindly M.E.'s transformation from Dr. Jekyll to Mr. Hyde at the slightest sign of an injury.

"I'd watch out, DiNozzo," Gibbs warned. "If you think that just because I'm listed as your next-of-kin on paper that Ducky won't have a lecture or ten waiting for you when you next get shot, then your gut is not nearly as reliable as I thought it might be."

The younger man didn't respond to that, as he knew the truth behind those words; Ducky didn't seem like the type to limit his concerns to only those he was responsible for on paper. Tony _did_, however, take offense at the way Gibbs had stressed _'when'_ and had not offered an _'if'_ as a suitable alternative; the Senior Agent made it sound as though he made a trip to the hospital every other day.

Tony gladly handed control of Gibbs' welfare over to the professionals once the EMTs had arrived, happy to have that particular burden lifted. He _was_ surprised, however, that the Senior Agent handed control of the scene over to him as he was being hauled off on a stretcher, with strict instructions to make sure Ducky got the body and Abby got the evidence over anyone that the idiots in the FBI might suggest instead.

"Right then," Tony said as he turned to look at everyone on scene and realised they were waiting to find out what he wanted them to do. He had run a scene before, but that had been with uniformed cops and CSI's he knew and who knew him; with the exception of Fornell, he was a stranger to everyone there.

"Piece of cake," he muttered to himself, wiping his hands on his trousers, the drying blood beginning to pull on his skin. "Ok, people, we've got work to do."

* * *

><p>"Really, Jethro," Ducky admonished the man. "Between you and Anthony I fear that we will never get through a week without a trip to the hospital for one injury or another."<p>

"Not like I asked for this, Duck," Gibbs said tiredly. The Doctor had been spewing his tirade for almost a quarter of an hour and between the drugs and the blood-loss, all Gibbs really wanted to do was go to sleep.

"What part of throwing yourself in front of a bullet is not asking for it?" Ducky half demanded and half stated, his irritation clear.

"Would you rather I let DiNozzo get shot? Because if I did, I can assure you, we'd be having an entirely different conversation with his body lying on one of your tables in the morgue!" Gibbs pointed out with a little more venom in his tone than he usually addressed the Doctor with, but he was tired and in pain and despite it all, he could not regret his decision one bit.

The Senior Agent's blunt statement and the imagery it conjured up seemed to break through Ducky's concern and exasperation over his friend's constant need to put himself in danger.

"No, of course not, quite right, Jethro," Ducky quietly acceded. "The damage is not all that serious provided you allow the muscles time to heal," he said with an accusing look at the Senior Agent. "But you _did_ lose a lot of blood, and you will feel the effects of that most keenly, I'm afraid…"

Gibbs drowned out the medical jargon at that point.

Both Abby and Ducky had arrived at the hospital before Gibbs was ready for them; both were loud with their concern and Abby had all but crushed him, as if bear-hugs alone could remove the bullet from him with nothing but sheer force and determination.

Abby had demanded to know what DiNozzo had been doing when Gibbs was busy getting himself shot, and the Senior Agent had done his best to ensure that the Forensic Specialist understood the true nature of the incident.

"_It was my choice, Abs," Gibbs stated firmly, holding her gaze with narrowed eyes. "I couldn't get a bead on the shooter and I didn't know whether or not DiNozzo could get to cover quickly enough; I wasn't going to risk him like that."_

"_But you got shot because of him," Abby pouted, aware of the weakness in her argument but feeling concern and anger override her usually rational mind._

"_I got shot because Rodriguez pulled the trigger. Don't go giving DiNozzo hell over this; he's feeling like hell over it all already," Gibbs admitted. He had never felt much compulsion to look after his agents in such a manner before, but he _did_ know that Tony was already holding himself accountable and that the man was always going to be his own fiercest critic._

"_He did his job as best as he could under the circumstances and he was the one who stopped the bleeding, Abs; there is no reason to hold anything against him," Gibbs said pointedly._

"_Ok, Bossman," Abby acquiesced. "I'll be good, I promise."_

She had spent the rest of her visit sitting on his bed, fussing unnecessarily over his bed sheets and attempting to get the nurses to bring him another pillow; promising to sneak him in some proper food when he was offered a tray of congealed gloop.

"Abs, you need to get back to the Navy Yard and start processing the evidence that's going to be coming in from the factory, and Duck, haven't you got an autopsy that you should go and see to?" Gibbs asked tiredly, attempting to give a gentle hint that their company was not all that much appreciated right then.

"Of course, Jethro; it is most unfair of me to leave all the work to Gerald," Ducky nodded; that his old friend wasn't fighting tooth and nail to get out of his hospital bed told Ducky just how much the blood loss was affecting him.

"Make sure DiNozzo is ok, will ya?" Gibbs asked, cracking open an eye to look at the M.E. "I didn't get a good look at him on the scene, but I know I banged into him pretty hard. Just make sure, ok?"

"I will endeavour to do so," Ducky agreed. "I'll make sure he comes here with everything they have on the case as soon as he is able to find the time," he assured the Senior Agent, all too aware of how much he hated being left in the dark about an on-going investigation.

"Don't think you're going to need to ask him that, Duck," Gibbs said quietly, cognizant of the fact that DiNozzo was becoming very good at pre-empting his orders and had more than likely already decided on a trip to the hospital as soon as he could manage. He finally lost his grip on consciousness and slipped into an exhausted sleep.

"I fear, my dear," he said to Abby as he offered her an arm, "that we shall have many more sleepless nights now that we have two of them to worry about," Ducky shook his head; no matter how much he had come to like young Anthony, he _did_ wish that the young man was just a little less like Jethro in regards to his attitude towards his own wellbeing.

* * *

><p>Tony was exhausted and his head was still throbbing; he was grateful that Gibbs was safely ensconced in his hospital bed, far enough away that Tony didn't have to hide every wince and grunt of pain as loud noises and bright lights continued to assault his senses at the crime scene. At least the blood had stopped sluggishly trickling down his forehead.<p>

He had set everyone to work relatively easily, although Fornell had simply raised an eyebrow and leant back against a rusting piece of obsolete machinery, an infuriatingly smug grin gracing his normally stoic façade.

Tony had offered his best glare before stalking off and muttering to himself about the incompetency of the FBI who could not even follow the most basic of instructions. He knew what the show was all about; Fornell was making it clear that he might agree to follow Gibbs' lead every now and then, but DiNozzo hadn't earned the same right.

The Senior FBI Agent had told him that he would return to NCIS and to Aikers; Tony had made it clear that the man was not to be interrogated until Gibbs either gave the go-ahead, or was ready to do it himself.

Fornell had thankfully agreed, but Tony knew it was nothing to do with his insistence on the matter but rather because the man had a healthy dose of respect for Gibbs' _'second 'b' for bastard'_ approach to certain situations.

Being forced to play catch-up on his main suspect was one of those situations.

The other FBI Agents were, thankfully, more focused on closing their case than on the pissing match taking place on the side-lines and as they didn't seem to think that Tony was forgetting some crucial task, they followed his orders happily enough simply because it would mean that the job was getting done.

He had phoned Ducky the moment the ambulance left to let him know of Gibbs' imminent arrival at the local hospital; he had asked that the older man inform Abby of her beloved Bossman's status, chickening out by stating that the news would be better delivered in person rather than over the phone.

He was a little worried about what both of their reactions would be; Tony had told Gibbs not long ago that they were partners now and that would mean that he would watch his Boss' six no matter what.

Now here they were, with Gibbs on his way to the hospital and carrying a bullet with his name on it.

He still couldn't believe that the Senior Agent had pushed him out of the path of a bullet only to end up catching one himself.

Tony knew that Sam would sacrifice his life to save Tony's; it wasn't a thought he was entirely comfortable with but it was a sentiment he heartily returned. The two of them had been partners, through good times and bad, for nearly two years and had come to depend on each other for more than just the job. The trust between them had been slow to start, but had rapidly picked up speed and evolved into so much more.

Gibbs did not know him like Sam did.

Gibbs did not owe him anything; their short time working together had not really allowed the chance for any real interdependency to develop between them, either professionally or personally.

He knew the Senior Agent had the whole Marine mentality going on and that _'leave no man behind' _was more than just a simple phrase to men like Gibbs, but Tony was not a soldier in his unit, he was not even a real Agent yet; his probationary period was not yet complete and as such, his status as Special Agent was still pending.

Gibbs' actions told him more about the man than his seemingly limited word-count ever could, and Tony found himself feeling terrified that someone was prepared to pay the ultimate price for his wellbeing and wholly comforted that he had someone that cared enough to take that risk. Tony felt it was a sure sign that his inexplicably strong faith in the older man had not been misplaced and that Gibbs had, in fact, been more deserving of it than he might previously have believed.

Tony had not been able to supress a large sigh of relief when he saw that it was Ducky's assistant, Gerald, who had turned up for the body rather than the M.E. himself. He was still reeling from his new Boss taking a bullet from him and all he wanted to do was get on with the job and make sure they had everything they needed to make sure Aikers and anyone associated with him went down for good.

Ducky would have taken one look at Tony and tried to put him on the side-lines, even if the older man _did_ end up holding him accountable for Gibbs' injury.

Eventually, the search of the premises was finished and the scene was deemed secure, allowing the CSU to move in and gather all the evidence they needed.

Tony had already handed his weapon over, as per protocol in a fatal shooting, and he had secured his statement along with those of the two SWAT members who had also been involved in the shooting; he would have to get Gibbs' at some stage, but that could wait until the man had a little more blood flowing through his system.

The evidence that had been bagged and tagged was being sent over to Abby's lab double time, trying to find anything that linked Rodriguez to Aikers and ascertaining whether or not there were more people involved.

Tony was pretty certain he was on top of everything and he allowed himself a moment to collapse against a nearby wall; the past few days had been exhausting and served as a harsh reminder that his body had not yet fully recovered from his own recent brush with death back in Baltimore.

His more recent trip down a flight of concrete stairs and his current concussion only added to the fatigue, and he was glad that the case seemed to be winding down to a close; he was almost wishing for the quiet, mind-numbing boredom that made up FLETC classes, if only for the chance to catch up on some sleep.

He wondered if Gibbs would mind him crashing in his spare room for another night; he didn't think he could face a sleeping bag in his new but empty apartment.

"Ok people, the job's done here; let's wrap it up, we've still got work to do," Tony said, pushing away from the wall and from the pulsating pain in his head. He wanted to gather together all of the preliminaries so he could give Gibbs a thorough debriefing when he got to the hospital.

Next stop…Abby's lab.

* * *

><p>"Tony!" Abby exclaimed as she rushed towards the latest recruit for Team Gibbs, defying the difficulty she <em>should<em> have had in her chunky six-inch platform boots, crushing him in one of her infamous hugs.

While she had been examining the evidence as it had trickled in, she had let her mind wander, thinking over what Gibbs had said in the hospital.

She couldn't deny that her first emotion had been anger when she discovered that her beloved Silver Fox had been shot on Tony's watch. The Bossman had brought Tony on board thinking that the younger man would be more than just a good addition but a worthy one, more than capable of getting the job done and, more importantly, of watching his six.

Tony had failed.

At least, that was what she had _first_ thought.

She now knew that Gibbs' injury hadn't been because of any error on Tony's part but rather because the Senior Agent had been watching _Tony's_ six, and doing his best under difficult circumstances to make sure his new Agent made it through his probationary period in one piece.

She could not yet say that she knew Anthony DiNozzo very well, but there were certain aspects of his personality that seemed to stand out more than others; some of those traits she had picked up on her own, others she had learnt through Gibbs or the Duckman.

Tony was a damn good investigator, a shameless flirt and he had a mischievous streak as wide as the Mississippi; beneath all that, though, there was a vulnerability to the man that she would never have expected when she had first met the seemingly cocky, self-assured Detective back in Baltimore.

She was heartily ashamed at the ease in which she had initially blamed Tony for her Bossman's wound, knowing, even without Gibbs' assurance, that Tony would be castigating himself far more effectively than anyone else could ever manage.

To see Tony wander into her lab, his apprehension perfectly obvious, was more than enough to bring out her compassionate side. The fact that he had a head-wound and looked almost as ashen as Gibbs had done in his hospital bed only served to further fuel her internal self-reprimands and her external concerns.

"You look like you should be in the bed next to Bossman," she said, her stern words softened by the gentle way she stroked the side of his head, near the small wound, but not touching the swollen area that she knew had to be painful.

By the slight wince she saw pass his face, one that Abby was certain had nothing to do with his head-wound, she knew that he was indeed holding himself fully accountable. She also suspected that no one, with the possible exception of Gibbs, would be able to assuage his guilt.

That didn't mean she couldn't give it a go.

"You know that this isn't your fault, right, Tony?" she asked carefully, as she was aware that she did not yet know him well enough to know where the potential minefields were in these sorts of conversations.

"Yeah, of course," Tony offered, his mega-watt smile alone might have been convincing if his tone of voice had been even a little more steady.

Abby raised an eyebrow and placed both her hands on her hips levelling him with a piercing gaze, quietly but clearly indicating that she wasn't buying it.

"He got shot because I didn't even _know_ someone was pointing their damn weapon at me," Tony confessed quietly, shrugging as if unsure what else he could say.

He knew Abby could be just as stubborn as Gibbs, and just as unrelenting in her questioning; he could dodge her concerns if he truly wanted to, but to be honest, he was just glad that she didn't seem to hold any anger towards him and he felt he should reward her concern with some degree of honesty.

"If the bullet had hit just a little lower…" Tony said quietly, lost in thought as the _'what ifs'_ washed over him. He quickly looked at his hands; he had managed to wash the blood off him but he could still _feel_ it there.

"Rodriguez shot him, Tony, and no one else; _he's_ the bad guy…_he's_ the one responsible for it all!" Abby stressed, prodding him in the chest with every word for emphasis. "Gibbs didn't save you to make you feel guilty, or to make you feel like you owe him; he did it because he wanted to, because not doing it would never have even crossed his mind. Just like if the situation was reversed, I know you'd have done the exact same thing."

And she _did_ know that, with a certainty she hadn't expected.

"Yeah," Tony admitted, and though he unquestionably knew that it was true, he didn't know if he would _ever_ feel comfortable knowing that someone would take that risk for _him_.

"Ok, so the gun Rodriguez used matches the slugs pulled from three out of our five dead Diablos; it seems like we've found our one-man clean-up crew. Also, there was some blood on the sleeve of his top that matched Henson. Did you guys ever find the head?" Abby asked.

"Not yet," Tony shrugged, glad to have changed the topic from an emotional minefield to work. "I can't say with any certainty that we ever will. The body was left there as a warning and the lack of a head gave that warning pretty eloquently, I think; I don't know where he would have gotten rid of it, but he wouldn't have risked carrying it on him for too long. Chances are that he either threw it into the Potomac or the spillway near the basketball court, or he hid it in one of the many empty buildings around that area."

"Well, we don't need it from an evidence point of view; the blood and the bullet striations would have been enough to convict him, you know…if he'd lived to see trial," Abby trailed off.

"Hey, you said it," Tony smiled wryly at her. "He chose his own way once he pulled that trigger at the Boss."

"Damn straight," Abby agreed. "Anyways…evidence brought from Aikers' address produced nothing conclusive, but…" she trailed off and held up a hand, forestalling Tony's complaints about the lack of evidence against him. "The clothes from his locker came back with trace amounts of heroin, the same composition of which was found on two of the dead Diablos, and there was blood spatter on his leg holster for his sidearm.

"The material is black and so the stain didn't show up to the naked eye, and I figured maybe he didn't think to clean that up all too carefully," Abby said smugly, brandishing the results in front of Tony's face. "This, together with Bradford's testimony, will go a long way towards putting Aikers behind bars."

"You are a genius," Tony said with a huge grin as he leaned forward to kiss her on the forehead, wrapping her in a hug before pulling away.

"You're only _just_ figuring that out now?" Abby said as she cocked her head to one side, pretending to be affronted.

"No, I figured it out pretty quickly, but every girl should feel appreciated," Tony offered with a suggestive wink.

"And I bet you know just how to do that," she purred back at him. She liked flirting with Tony; it was fun but entirely safe, as she knew that he did not feel that way towards her and would not pursue her even if he did, if only to save himself from the wrath of Gibbs.

"Of course," he grinned lasciviously. He flicked her pig-tails before heading towards the door. "I've got to go tell Gibbs what we know and find out what he wants to do about Aikers; the man has been sitting in one of our holding cells since last night."

"Can't say that bothers me," Abby shrugged.

"Me neither, but the sooner he confesses, the sooner I can go to sleep," Tony offered, the longing in his voice clear.

"Go see Ducky!" Abby ordered before pointing to her own forehead. "Gibbs will be angry if he finds out about that and the fact that you've not had it checked out."

"I'm fine," Tony insisted as he climbed into the elevator, pushing the button for the bullpen rather than for the morgue; he shouldn't disturb Ducky during the autopsy, after all.

"Men," Abby muttered to herself with disgust at the flippant way in which both Gibbs and Tony seemed to disregard their injuries. "So stupid!"

* * *

><p>Tony was just packing a few files into his rucksack, readying himself for a debriefing with an injured Gibbs and worrying over which facet of the man's shining personality would be at the forefront, when he noticed the Director standing in front of his desk.<p>

"Is there something I can help you with, Director?" Tony asked evenly and politely. He knew next to nothing about the man who had the final say on his career so he knew he had to tread carefully, but he was uncomfortable around the person who had ordered Tony's instructors to spy on him.

"Agent Gibbs will be ok," the man stated, rather than asked.

"Yes," Tony confirmed, and waited for more. When nothing else seemed to be forthcoming, he continued, "I was just on my way over to the hospital to give him a SitRep and find out what he wants to do with Aikers."

"What do _you_ think we should do with Aikers?" Morrow asked curiously, interested to see what Gibbs' protégé would come up with.

"I don't think we're going to lose anything by letting the man stew in his holding cell for a little while longer," Tony revealed cautiously. He knew the man was testing him but at the same time, Tony wanted to uncover something about the Director; he wanted to know how hands-on the man was about his job and mostly he wanted some hint as to how the Director now viewed Tony after all that had happened.

To find out any of that he would need a direct approach with actual interaction.

"While he's in there worrying and getting more and more nervous about his future, we can finish securing evidence against him and make sure that all loose ends are tied up so that when we _do_ get around to questioning him, he has nothing left to hide."

"Sounds like a sensible suggestion; I'm sure Gibbs would approve," Morrow nodded his own endorsement, and Tony was grateful to hear the sincerity in the man's voice and not one hint of sarcasm. "Is that why _you_ haven't interviewed him yet?"

"_Me_?" Tony asked with surprise. "Aikers won't respond to _me_," Tony said with certainty.

"How can you be so sure?" Morrow wanted to know.

"Aikers' father is high up in one of the most powerful Cartels in Mexico; he's regularly been dealing with _at least_ one other extremely violent man as well as his possible involvement with the death of five dead DC gangsters.

"On top of that, he's a Gunnery Sergeant with the US Marine Corps who has not only seen action but who didn't even bat an eyelid when he ordered Henson to execute another Marine in front of him. Something tells me that some Junior Agent from NCIS is not going to intimidate him into signing a confession," Tony explained.

Tony knew his strengths as well as his weaknesses and while he was a consummate undercover man with excellent acting skills, he knew no matter how intimidating he tried to be, Aikers would remain unaffected.

The GySgt had grown up surrounded by violence, and judging by the man's medical records some of that violence had been directed straight at him. The loss of life he undoubtedly saw in the war, coupled with what he could have seen or heard of his father's work during his youth, would most likely have numbed Aikers to a lot of life's little shocks.

Tony knew enough about psychology to know that one of the few things gained from an abusive childhood was the ability to read people extremely well; when the possibility of escaping broken bones and nasty bruises came down to only a matter of seconds, it became vital to learn to read the emotions and body-language of a would-be attacker with one look.

Aikers had obviously survived his childhood and was likely more than capable of reading through Tony's bluff as he tried to muscle the GySgt's way towards a confession.

Tony also thought that he was the wrong man for the job because he didn't want to risk the man seeing his empathy surrounding the Marine's very obvious Daddy Issues, and trying to use that against them.

He had tried hard throughout his own childhood to make his father proud through any means necessary, even doing things that he now deeply regretted even _thinking_ about and he was still greatly ashamed of too many of his actions during his youth, some of which ended up with him up in a Military Academy and his father back in New York.

None of it mattered, of course; his father still told him he was going to end up in the gutter.

No, Tony had too many of his own Daddy Issues to even think of going down that path and risking it all being turned against him. Of course, Aikers seemed to lack even the most basic vestige of compassion, so Tony did not think he could use that approach to much effect anyway.

No, Aikers was a cold and ruthless criminal who did not deserve any quarter, no matter how small; Tony thought that even an injured Gibbs would be far more effective in achieving that aim and achieving it quickly and without incident.

"Yes, I suppose you raise a good point, Agent DiNozzo," Morrow nodded to himself. He hadn't missed out on the fact that DiNozzo had referred to himself as a _'Junior Agent'_ and that the slip was clearly indicative of the younger man's frame of mind; evidently he already thought of himself as a member of Gibbs' team.

Morrow was surprisingly ok with that.

He couldn't deny that he had immediately regretted giving Gibbs a carte blanche on creating his own team, worried about what kind of unit could form under the stern former Gunnery Sergeant.

DiNozzo had certainly been an interesting first-pick, but Gibbs seemed more than adamant about having the former Detective on his team; initially, Morrow had not seen the appeal.

There _were_ commendations in the man's files, but there were also several reprimands too. That the man seemed to be a trouble magnet brought up its own issues; Gibbs was already far from being the most cautious of agents when it came to a choice between his own wellbeing and that of a successful outcome to the case, and it seemed as though DiNozzo would _not_ be the man to curb that behaviour, but rather encourage it.

All in all, DiNozzo was too much of an enigma for Morrow to feel entirely at ease with Gibbs decision.

However, despite the scuttlebutt working against him, despite the conflicting nature of his personnel files, despite the demands of both Gibbs _and_ NCIS, despite the difficult nature of the man's first real NCIS case, DiNozzo seemed to be doing well under the pressure.

He had not shown any signs of slowing down despite his own recent injury and Gibbs' current one; in fact, DiNozzo seemed to be thriving under a difficult set of circumstances that would find most people buckling under the pressure.

"Well, I won't keep you; I'm sure you've already realised that Agent Gibbs is not a man who likes to be kept waiting," Morrow said with wry amusement at the fervent nod he received in response. "You have an appointment with Dr. Barton this afternoon; protocol after an officer involved shooting, I'm afraid."

And he was, because he had already read the woman's initial psychiatric evaluation of the man; it was one very short paragraph about DiNozzo's reluctance to discuss much of anything with the woman.

Morrow had groaned out loud in his office as he discovered yet another trait that DiNozzo seemed intent on sharing with his new team leader.

Dr. Barton had promised to spend _at least_ one other session with the former Detective, until she could get some reliable responses from him.

"Looking forward to it, Sir," Tony managed to say without _too_ much sarcasm infecting his tone.

"I'm sure you are," Morrow muttered quietly to himself as he watched NCIS's latest addition wander towards the elevator.

It very much looked as though DiNozzo was in for the long haul, and Morrow wouldn't mind that quite so much if only he felt that he was not getting a younger, more reckless and certainly more verbose version of Gibbs.

Yep, the two of them together were sure to give him more than one headache.

* * *

><p>"Gibbs," Tony greeted quietly, eyes drawn straight to the man's bound left shoulder.<p>

The Senior Agent looked over towards the younger man and felt himself frown as he took in the picture before him. They had both been overdoing it, working long hours and pushing themselves ever onwards and upwards in an attempt to bring the smuggling ring to a close.

Still, the dark circles around DiNozzo's eyes seemed more pronounced than ever and the haggard nature of his clothing was unlike the young man, who seemed to be meticulous in all aspects of his appearance even when he was dressed down in a pair of jeans and a raggedy old Ohio State t-shirt.

What really drew his attention, however, was the small gash on the man's forehead; it was red and slightly swollen, looking painful and quite deep. Gibbs knew the injury had probably happened when he pushed the younger man out of the path of the bullet, but even though the corners of DiNozzo's eyes were pinched with pain, the injury was a small price to pay considering the alternative.

Gibbs knew that DiNozzo was still feeling guilty over the shooting, knew that if their situations were reversed he would be feeling the same way, but Gibbs wouldn't have changed the outcome if he was given the opportunity; he wouldn't have been able to live with risking DiNozzo's life by _not_ acting.

"You finished at the scene?" Gibbs asked, hoping to get the man's attention off his injured shoulder and onto the case.

"Yep," Tony confirmed, finally meeting the older man's eyes. "Everything has been bagged and tagged and sent to Abby. Ducky has the body and has started the autopsy, although we all know what killed him," Tony shrugged, thinking that protocol could sometimes be ridiculously obsolete.

"Fornell?" Gibbs asked, aware that the man would not have subjected himself to the authority he had given Tony at the crime scene.

"On Aikers Watch," Tony informed him, accurately guessing where his mind had taken him.

"He interviewed him?" Gibbs demanded with a frown. He might trust Fornell a whole hell of a lot more than anyone else over at the Hoover Building, but that didn't mean he wanted the FBI Agent to run his interrogations, especially without him there.

"One of the few things he agreed to do was that he would _not_ interview Aikers," Tony replied with a wry grin as he thought of the slightly antagonistic conversation they had shared about that particular point. Their working relationship was a lot better than the sheer hostility that had existed between them after Philadelphia, but they still had a long way to go before they could truly stomach working alongside each other.

Gibbs nodded, glad that DiNozzo had even thought of securing that guarantee from the FBI Agent; he doubted Fornell would have gone around him for the interview, but the man was not always as predictable as he sometimes appeared to be.

"Hand them over then," Gibbs gestured to the files. He had been stuck in the hospital for several hours while he was forced to recover his lost blood-volume. For once he was grateful for the time that seemed to take; while he was still feeling slightly drained and more than ready to sink into his own bed, the small break had allowed him something of a reprieve from the demands of the job and allowed him to collect himself.

He did feel a little guilty about leaving DiNozzo to sort out all the loose ends, but he was also curious to see how the younger man handled himself.

As he read through the files, he could see that DiNozzo had been very efficient, ensuring he had all the preliminary information at his fingertips.

"Good job, DiNozzo," he nodded in approval towards the younger man. He was not one for giving out praise unnecessarily, but he knew that DiNozzo needed a little pick-me-up after the day he'd had.

"Now you're going to tell me what Ducky said about that," he gestured towards the injury on the man's forehead.

DiNozzo, no matter how good he was at hiding his emotions from the crowd, could not hide the briefest of winces from passing across his face. Gibbs knew exactly what that had meant; the man had not winced because of the pain, but because he was being forced to admit that he had not gone to see Ducky or, most likely, any other medical professional about his second head injury in a matter of days.

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs said with exasperation.

"I've been busy," Tony shrugged. His head still throbbed and he was completely exhausted but that didn't mean he was going to willingly subject himself to any doctor's ministrations, even when that doctor was Ducky.

"You ok?" Gibbs asked, a little concern creeping in. He knew the younger man's unenthusiastic approach when it came to medical-care and he could only hope that DiNozzo at least had the sense to acquiesce when the situation warranted it.

"I'm fine," Tony insisted quietly.

'_Fine, my ass,'_ Gibbs thought darkly to himself. He hadn't known DiNozzo for very long but he had already heard that one word more than enough.

"Well, get me out of here then," Gibbs demanded, as he seated himself up on his hospital bed, doing his best to ignore the wave of dizziness that passed over him.

"Sure, I'll go and get a nurse," Tony gestured towards the IV that needed to be removed, although he neglected to mention that he would be asking for a doctor's opinion first as to whether or not Gibbs was ready to be released from their care.

He failed to see the hypocrisy of the situation.

"Good, we've got a suspect to interview," Gibbs nodded.

"_You_ do," Tony said sourly. "_I've_ got a trip to the shrink all ready and waiting for me back at the Navy Yard," he scowled darkly as he left the room to look for assistance.

Gibbs tried to supress a grin at the man's reaction to that particular branch of protocol, before realising that he too would have his own trip in the very near future.

His scowl was far more impressive than Tony's.

* * *

><p>Tony felt almost as crappy as he had done the last time he had been in Doctor Barton's office, but this time he was determined to give her nothing to write home about. He knew exactly what she, what <em>all<em> shrinks wanted; they wanted someone to admit to feeling anxious about the dangers of their job, and they wanted to hear about a healthy outlet.

They wanted to hear the inner workings of a well-adjusted individual.

Tony knew that he hid, very well, just how far he was from being well-adjusted, and he knew that Barton's office was not a place where he could afford to reveal that fact.

Tony had no problem with talking, but talking about personal matters to a total stranger was another matter altogether. However, he firmly pulled on his mask and he was prepared to give the good doctor a show.

He had told her that losing his mother had been sad but that he and his father had grown closer once it was just the two of them, taking the time from school and work to go on holiday together; he neglected to mention that the last time they went anywhere together, his father had forgotten him for two days in Maui hotel.

He talked about how he wanted to do his job well and how he wasn't sure if he would have stuck at it so long if it hadn't been for the support of his fellow officers; he neglected to mention the hostility that went well beyond the typical hazing of a junior officer.

He talked about generic concerns that every cop worried over: being shot in the line of duty, losing your partner, messing up on a case.

All in all, he gave plenty of information without ever actually _revealing_ anything.

So far they had been talking for over fifteen minutes before the Doctor finally started to ask about his shooting back in Baltimore; Tony was sure it was only a matter of time before the conversation turned towards Gibbs' shooting.

"Yeah, I was pretty scared," Tony admitted with a distressed expression as he answered her question about how he felt to find a gun pointed at him.

He hadn't been.

Not really.

Not because he was ridiculously brave or completely suicidal, but because everything had happened so fast, and his first thought had been about the little girl in his arms, clutching at him as if he was all that was holding her together.

Tony didn't remember a lot from the actual shooting, but he _could_ recall that the first time he had felt the tendrils of fear grabbing hold was when he struggled to pull in a breathe; his lungs flooded with blood rather than oxygen.

"You walk into this job knowing it is a possibility, but you never expect it to happen to you," Tony confessed truthfully.

"How did you cope with it all once you were well enough to have registered what happened?" Doctor Barton asked. She was happy to find the young man in front of her less antagonistic than he had been the last time he had been in her office; she was all too used to alpha personalities and their opinions about her profession that a cooperative patient was a welcome change.

"I had my former partner, Sam Jacobs; he really helped me get through everything," Tony explained, chancing an assessing gaze over towards the Doctor and glad to see that she seemed to be eating up his own balance of half-truths and deviations.

"Were you close?"

"He was a good partner and I learned a lot from him," Tony nodded with a genuine smile as he thought of his former partner. Of course, his real feelings about Sam Jacobs could not be so easily simplified, but he was not going to explain exactly what Sam had meant to him; she neither needed nor deserved to know just what he thought of Sam.

"Can you envisage a similar professional relationship with Agent Gibbs?" she asked curiously. She couldn't imagine anyone willingly choosing to work with the ornery man; she was certainly not looking forward to the Senior Agent's own session.

"I know he's a capable Agent," Tony said carefully, unsure of how much of what he said could get back to Gibbs; the man did seem to have the whole omniscient thing going on at NCIS. "He's already taught me a lot and I think there is still so much I need to learn; there's always _something_ more you need to know when it comes to this job," he offered with a charming smile.

Alicia nodded, thinking to herself what a nice smile he had. She shook herself from her thoughts and asked about Gibbs' shooting.

"What do you say to a man who takes a bullet for you?" Tony finally asked a question that had genuinely been eating at him.

The questions were very much directed towards his emotions and Tony didn't have to fake his guilt over the incident, but he _did_ hide just how much guilt he still carried, despite Gibbs' dismissal of it all.

"Well, Mr. DiNozzo," she said as she finally closed her notebook. "I think you seem to be handling it all very well; your concerns are all very understandable and nothing for you to feel ashamed of. I must say I'm impressed; I had been worried that I had another Agent Gibbs on my hands.

"Keep on talking things through with Agent Gibbs about the shooting, no matter how reluctant you both might be about opening up; I think it will do you _both_ some good. I am more than happy to sign off on your evaluation and I will tell Morrow that you can return to fieldwork as soon as you feel ready and able. And Tony, please remember that I'm _always_ here if you need me."

"I _will_ remember that," Tony offered with a flirtatious smile, before getting to his feet and heading calmly towards the door while his inner monologue was full of self-congratulations as he thought about his success in getting the shrink to sign off on him despite all of his acting and half-truths.

Alicia Barton felt a small flutter in her stomach as the full DiNozzo charm was sent her way; the man had been polite and honest with her and his humour and smiles had done a lot to endear the young man to her.

She was sure the well-balanced man would have an excellent career at NCIS and started to write up her final report with words that stated as much.

If only Gibbs was going to be as easy…

* * *

><p><em><strong>So there you have it; please let me know what you think or if you spot any errors as while I do proof-read, I'm far from perfect.<strong>_

_**I know a lot of you were pulling for Tony to get shot (a worrying amount actually…lol) but this story is examining the level of trust that seems to exist between the two, particularly how much faith Tony places in Gibbs. So Gibbs being the one to catch a bullet on Tony's behalf nicely fit in with that approach…sorry all Tony-whump fans! Remember, i **_**did**_** shoot Ton**__**y in my 'Baltimore' fic; in this one, he's still recovering from that and, of course, receiving the mandatory concussion or two!  
><strong>_

_**M.E. – Medical Examiner.**_

_**EMTs – Emergency Medical Technicians, or…put simply, paramedics.**_

_**CSU – Crime Scene Unit.**_

_**FLETC – Federal Law Enforcement Training Centre.**_

_**SitRep – Situation Report.**_

_**GySgt – Gunnery Sergeant.**_

_**Next Up – Gibbs and Tony interview Aikers and set about wrapping up the case. Tony tries to sort out his new apartment and Gibbs and Morrow have a chat about Tony's future at NCIS. Gibbs uses his new found power as Tony's next-of-kin to make sure the younger man sees a doctor!  
><strong>_


	11. Chapter 11

_**Thanks once again to everyone who has taken the time to read and review/message/alert.**_

_**I know it has taken me a long time to get around to posting this but I've started a new job the other side of the country and things have been more than a little manic in the move, the new routine and everything in between. Thank you for your patience!**_

_**I've been writing this over the course of the Diamond Jubilee celebrations with all the patriotism, pomp and ceremony that comes with it; it is a very good time to be British! Hope everyone in the Commonwealth enjoyed the show!**_

* * *

><p>Tony had returned to the hospital after his rather successful trip to Doctor Barton's office, the Senior Agent's earlier escape thwarted by the fact that the doctor's had wanted to run a couple more tests before agreeing to releasing him.<p>

The Junior Agent had unexpectedly been allowed to keep the keys and drive Gibbs back from the hospital; he knew it made sense, given Gibbs' injury but he was still surprised at the Senior Agent handing over control of anything to someone else, least of all him.

He drove slowly and carefully in an attempt to avoid jarring Gibbs' shoulders injury and causing the man any more unnecessary pain. He thought Gibbs might appreciate the consideration; he should have known better.

"You always drive like a senior citizen, DiNozzo?" came a tired but wry comment from the passenger's seat.

Tony scowled and muttered to himself, Gibbs caught little more than a snide comment about having to be careful when driving senior citizens around which earned the Junior Agent a narrowed gaze.

"You want to dive straight into the interview?" Tony asked as his foot pressed down ever so slightly on the accelerator pedal; he was prepared to drive _slightly_ faster to acquiesce his Boss just a little, but he was not going to risk going any quicker. Gibbs was shot on his watch; he was not going to cause the man any more pain no matter how grumpy the Senior Agent got!

"No, I want to see Ducky first and find out what he's got for me," Gibbs replied, neglecting to mention that he also wanted the M.E. to check over DiNozzo; the moment the younger man sets foot over the threshold to autopsy there would be no escaping the scrutiny of the good Doctor.

"Sure," Tony hid a wince; he suspected Gibbs' alternative motive for the trip to autopsy, but he wasn't about to deny the man anything while he was still so freshly wrapped in guilt.

* * *

><p>"Really, my boy, what on earth were you thinking?" Ducky admonished the young man sat hunched down on the autopsy table with all the appearance of a scolded schoolboy.<p>

It had not taken more than a single glance from the elderly M.E. before a stern lecture began on the importance of looking after open wounds and the due care and attention needed for head-wounds.

Tony had duly bowed down to the Doctor's orders, all too aware that acquiescence was the safest route, especially with Gibbs looking on.

He had sat down when he was told to and had been uncommonly still and silent while the Doctor dabbed at the wound with every antiseptic he managed to find, reeling off one unrelated story after another that Tony didn't even attempt to follow as he stared resolutely at his feet, trying not to let the fatigue show.

Gibbs watched on in concern. The Senior Agent knew that his latest agent had a strong dislike towards all things medical and that attitude worried him; would DiNozzo's reluctance to seek medical help one day lead to his death?

It was obvious to any idiot with eyes that DiNozzo was suffering through pain and exhaustion caused not only by the accident, but by the demanding few days the case had necessitated.

He had bitched and moaned over the occasional head-slap Gibbs had given him but he had been remarkably stoic about his recovery from the shooting back in Baltimore and over the injuries he had acquired since his arrival in DC; DiNozzo seemed to like being contrary.

"Head wounds can have very serious complications and you've suffered two in so short an amount of time that you really should be in the hospital getting a scan," Ducky continued to lecture. "And Gerald told me about the rather deplorable conditions in the factory; with an open wound like this one, you're vulnerable to all sorts of infections. There was a time in Cambridge…oh it must have been about twenty-three years ago now, and a young man very similar to yourself…"

"Duck," Gibbs interrupted the lecture quietly, giving the older man a subtle nod towards his quiet patient; DiNozzo either hadn't noticed the attention or he was resolutely ignoring it.

Ducky took the time to look beyond the physical hurts and towards the quieter but often so much more painful emotional ones that young Anthony was clearly going to great lengths to mask.

The younger man was sat hunched in on himself on the cold autopsy table as though sitting up required an energy that he just couldn't muster; fatigue from the last few days having caught up with his him and his body that was still recovering from major trauma. The entire time that Ducky had been ministering the wound, Anthony had been staring at his feet as they dangled over the edge of the table with a fierce amount of attention.

Ducky had not known the younger man very long and while Tony had all sorts of traits that were scarily familiar, there were still a lot of minefields to be uncovered in order to learn which topics were best avoided; doctors and all things medical seemed to be one of those topics.

He hoped that Tony's aversion was due to the injuries and bed rest he had had been forced to endure during his time on the job, but Ducky sadly suspected it went deeper than that; the younger man's father was clearly one of those minefields to be avoided and the Doctor suspected the _best_ case scenario was that it was because of the emotional damage a parent could bring about on their child rather than anything more serious. He didn't want to think about the worst case scenario.

"Yes, well, I'm quite sure all will be well," the Doctor said as he gently placed a butterfly strip over the wound; he took a step back, hesitating only briefly before settling a hand on Tony's shoulder, "You're all done, young man."

"Thanks, Ducky," Tony replied quietly, looking up for the first time so he could meet the kindly Doctor's eyes. "I _do_ appreciate it."

"I know you do, lad," Ducky smiled softly before turning away with the soiled tools in order to give the younger man a moment to collect himself. For all of his bluster and inane chatter, Agent DiNozzo could be remarkably close-mouthed about the things that truly mattered to him.

"DiNozzo, go and grab whatever Abby has managed to find on Aikers and Rodriquez; I want to go into interrogation with everything we've got," Gibbs finally said.

"Sure thing, Boss," Tony said with the first signs of eagerness breaking through, desperate as he was to escape from the scrutiny of the two older men.

Once DiNozzo had left, Gibbs turned to the M.E.

"Ok, Duck, give it to me straight; how's he doing?" he asked, rare concern shining through.

"Jethro, there is only so much I can do down here," Ducky gestured to the cold, metal environment that made up autopsy. "He's suffered from two head wounds in almost as many days; if I thought he would go, I'd take him to the nearest hospital for a scan."

"You think he needs a scan?" Gibbs asked, his concern deepening.

"I think it would be better to be safe and take the time to check rather than take the risk of ignoring it; head wounds can be unpredictable and fraught with complications and young Anthony does seem to be rather prone to them.

"You also need to remember that he was shot, Jethro. He suffered massive trauma from a bullet wound to the chest and then from the surgery necessary to repair that damage; it takes the body a long time to fully recover from an injury of that magnitude. It is very much evident that this case, along with his time at FLETC, has been taking a toll on both his body and his mind; he's exhausted, Jethro, and he needs to take the time to rest."

"I know that, Duck," Gibbs sighed, and he did. He knew that they had both been pushing themselves pretty hard for the case, desperate to find some lead that would bring the whole mess to an end. He also knew that neither one of them would back off until that end actually came about; their very deep-seated sense of duty would demand nothing less.

"We'll both rest when the case is over," he tried to assure the older man, although judging by the expression of doubt that flitted across the M.E.'s face, he hadn't been very successful.

"There'll be another one," Ducky muttered mostly to himself but no less serious despite it all.

"That's the job, Duck," Gibbs reminded the Doctor gently. He often found himself feeling beyond aggravated with the older man's flagrant shows of concern, both uncomfortable and ungracious with such open behaviour being directed at him, but he appreciated that his friend was simply doing all he could to look out for Gibbs in the only way he knew how.

"I'll drag DiNozzo to the hospital once Aikers has been charged," he stated firmly, leaving Ducky in no doubt that the Senior Agent had meant it whole-heartedly.

"I'm not sure he'll appreciate such a heavy-handed approach, Jethro," Ducky chided the man, his smile belying his stern words.

"He should have thought about that before making me his next-of-kin," Gibbs said with a smirk as he exited autopsy, Ducky's reports in hand, and headed for the interview rooms.

* * *

><p>Gibbs was surprised when DiNozzo relegated himself to the observation room; whether it be the action in a gun-fight or a simple witness statement, the younger man usually liked to be in the middle of it all. Whilst Gibbs didn't normally appreciate sharing the interrogation room with anyone other than the suspect, he felt that after all they had gone through Tony had more than earned the right to sit in on the questioning.<p>

They had worked well together during the Bradford interview, with Tony bringing something to the table that Gibbs could not; their two different approaches had fed seamlessly into each other to provide the result they had so desperately needed.

"You ok in here?" he asked the younger man from the doorway to observation.

"Yeah," Tony nodded. "I don't think there's much I can do in there," he gestured towards the two-way mirror and Aikers, who was sitting down and scowling fiercely into the mirror as he no doubt thought about the people in the observation room looking in on him like some exhibit in a zoo.

"Ok," Gibbs nodded. He was sure that the explanation was nowhere near as simple as that, but he was prepared to let it pass…for now. "Files?"

Tony handed them over.

Abby had given him the files and then he had been stuck receiving a lecture on allowing Gibbs to leave the hospital (as if Tony had a choice in _that_ matter), and not telling Abby that her Silver Fox (Tony was sure that if anyone _else_ had graced the Senior Agent with such a moniker, Gibbs would not have allowed them to live out the rest of the day) had returned.

He then had to force her to stay in the lab and finish her tests and not rush up stairs and give Gibbs _'a super-duper welcome back hug'_ breaking that all important Rule 22.

He wondered if it was the Caff-Pows or if Abby had always been a little…different!

"She's managed to match the blood on the holster; in fact, she managed to find _two_ matches!" Tony said flicking the file to the appropriate place before handing it back it Gibbs.

"Harrison and Juan Carlos Marquez," Gibbs read. "One of the dead Diablos?" he questioned the younger man, receiving a nod in confirmation. "We can get him for murder," Gibbs allowed a sigh of relief, having initially being worried that the squirrelly son-of-a-bitch had only been going to face the trafficking charges and possibly one count of conspiracy to commit murder.

"Well, we've got enough evidence to point towards murder, but in the end I imagine it will all come down to the judge and jury. However, this," Tony gestured towards the file, "Along with Bradford's testimony means we have a pretty solid case and don't even really need a confession from him; we _have_ him, Gibbs!" Tony stated firmly, a steely tone to his voice as he thought about the havoc the Gunnery Sergeant on the other side of the mirror had caused.

Gibbs nodded and left the room, entering the interview room a moment later.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" Aikers demanded. "You have no right to keep me here!"

"Actually we do," Gibbs said quietly as he calmly sat down opposite the irate Marine. He carefully opened up the file, allowing Aikers to see not only the thickness of the folder but also of the gruesome image on the open page.

"Juan Carlos Marquez," Gibbs stated, removing the photograph and showing it to Aikers, glad to see the fire in the other man's eyes dimmed somewhat by a rising anxiety. "He's got a pretty impressive rap sheet and the only family he has left is a brother doing time in Florida; I doubt anyone's going to miss him too much.

"But this…" Gibbs slid across a photograph of Aikers' gun holster. "This puts you at the scene of his murder. You took great care to clean everything up; we couldn't find any clothes so you clearly managed to dispose of _them_ pretty well; I'm pretty sure the Marine Corps will be pissed that you've disposed of one of your BDUs. Your gun didn't match up, so you were obviously smart enough to use another. There was no trace of GSR on your hands," Gibbs gestured towards Aikers hands that were balled into fists and resting on the table. "So you probably wore gloves.

"You were pretty efficient, Aikers," Gibbs refused to address the man by his rank, especially when the son-of-a-bitch was smirking at the apparent lack of evidence against him. "But you made a mistake. The black material of your holster might not have shown up any blood stains to the naked eye, but there was sure as hell blood there.

"We have Corporal Harrison's blood on there too, which puts you at the scene of his murder," Gibbs continued. "We also have the fact that when you were arrested by that rent-a-cop at the mall, you were carrying two weapons stolen from the armoury, the same armoury involved in a major gun-smuggling ring, and one of the missing rifles was found in your car.

"Then of course, there's Bradford's testimony," Gibbs said, looking straight into Aikers' eyes.

"Bradford wouldn't say shit," Aikers asserted leaning back in his chair and folding his arms, his body language defensive as the severity of his situation hit and doubt started to sink in.

"You have the man terrified," Gibbs agreed. "Of course, once he found out that you were full of shit, that you weren't working for the Sinaloa Cartel, he was a little more loose-lipped about everything that went down; the smuggling of armaments from the armoury at Norfolk, threats and intimidation, ordering Harrison's death and so much more.

"You're going down, Aikers, and there is nothing you or your father can do to change that."

"This has nothing to do with my goddamn father!" the irate Marine insisted, finally losing his cool as he half leapt up, ready to strike at the NCIS Agent sat calmly at the other side of the table.

"And _there_ are the Daddy Issues," Tony mumbled to himself, earning a few curious gazes from the other people working in the observation room.

"You're right, of course," Gibbs agreed. "If your father had been involved, maybe this whole affair would have been a little more successful at your end."

"You son-of-a-bitch!" Aikers stood up and lunged for Gibbs but found his way blocked by a tall man whose green eyes were burning with silent fury. The Marine quickly found himself being slammed into the table while his hands were secured behind his back.

Tony had been in the observation room carefully watching Aikers, who looked ready to erupt at any moment, wondering if he should have been in the interview room with Gibbs after all; the man was injured and should not be faced with the possibility of being attacked and having his wound further aggravated.

The moment he saw Aikers stand up, Tony knew from the body language in a second flat that he needed to get in there and fast.

He placed himself between Gibbs and the irate Marine before quickly twisting one of Aikers' arms behind his back and forcing his face to the table as he reached for the other arm and secured both hands firmly in a set of handcuffs. Once the furious man was fastened, Tony shoved him none too gently back into his chair with a firm _'sit!'_ before turning to look at Gibbs.

The Senior Agent had reacted on instinct, an instinct that had been born of nature and nurture through his time in both the Corps and since he joined NCIS; the moment he saw Aikers stand he too had pushed himself away from the table and quickly got to his feet, ready to assume a defensive position. Unfortunately, the quick movement had jarred his injury and the quick flash of pain that spread through his shoulder had momentarily paralysed him.

Once he caught his breath enough to breathe through the pain and gain control over the rush of adrenaline running through his body he saw that DiNozzo had it all in hand.

"You ok, Boss?" Tony asked, his concern evident even through the fury that still burned in his eyes.

Gibbs would never in a million years admit it aloud, but he was proud of Tony in that moment; the younger man had reacted swiftly and efficiently and more importantly for Gibbs, he had shown not only an ability to watch his partner's six but the will to do so without hesitation.

Tony had thrown himself between his injured partner and a furious, highly trained and unrestrained Marine.

Gibbs knew then that he already had the partner he wanted in Tony; there was not going to be a lengthy waiting period where trust and familiarity needed to be strengthened as there was no need. The trust and familiarity necessary for a strong and successful partnership already existed; they were simply reinforcing it.

It was a comforting revelation.

He nodded to the younger man, trying to assure Tony that he was ok.

"Do you really think you need to add any more charges to the list?" Tony asked Aikers as he shoved the Marine, who was once again struggling to stand up back into his chair.

"Aikers, you're going down, but for how long and as to what kind of facility…well, that all depends on you; Leavenworth might have all sorts of violent and disgraced former soldiers, but even _they_ have standards about treason. We still need the names of your runners, because I know you wouldn't have risked taking the guns across the border yourself. I'm sure you have a lot of names and information that would interest the DEA, too."

"You think I'm stupid enough to talk?" Aikers said, as he tiredly dragged his head up to meet the fierce gaze of the Senior Agent and remained completely unaffected by the hostility directed at him. "I wouldn't last two seconds inside if I even _thought_ about talking to you, so all offence intended when I tell you to go fuck yourself."

"Michael Aikers, I'm charging you with murder in the first degree, contract murder…" Gibbs started to reel off every offence, taking great pleasure in seeing the formally irate man curl in on himself as the truth set in; there was no way out for him.

* * *

><p>"I can't believe that we've actually come to the end of the case," Tony sighed as he flopped down into his desk chair. "It feels kind of anticlimactic, really; after all of that everything is done and dusted because of the evidence and we didn't really need to even <em>talk<em> to the guy."

"This is the real world, DiNozzo, not one of your movies," Gibbs said, tiredly looking up from his own seat. "Convictions rely on evidence and the fact that our evidence against Aikers is so overwhelming that a confession is pretty much unnecessary…well, that's actually a damn good thing."

"I wish we could have got him to talk, though," Tony lamented. "There _must_ have been more people involved than just Henson, Bradford, Aikers and Rodriguez."

"Definitely, but Bradford only knew about Aikers and Rodriquez; he's given us all the information he can in return for a lighter sentence and a new identity for himself and medical care for his wife. Aikers is not going to tell us anything and we have nothing to trade, so the others that were involved will probably remain safely hidden away."

Tony snorted.

Gibbs looked over sharply towards the younger man, who was leaning back in his chair, eyes closed and hands folded neatly across his chest.

"And what the hell does _that_ mean?" Gibbs demanded, a little insulted at being contradicted so brazenly by the Junior Agent.

"No way in hell are they safe, Gibbs," Tony assured the older man, his eyes still closed and a smile gracing his face, not at all affected by the fierce tone directed his way. "I've worked Vice before and I know that there is a _fierce_ hierarchy, especially within the Cartels.

"These guys might have been supplying the Sinaloa Cartel with guns, they might not; we don't actually _know_ where the guns went and I imagine we'll never know for sure. One thing we _do_ know is that there are some pretty serious deals being done between the Sinaloa Cartel and various criminal organisations around the world and the Diablos are one of those organisations.

"This renegade group waged their own little war on the Diablos for a side deal that, by the looks of it, was not sanctioned by the higher echelons of Cartel command, and the effects of all that will be bad for Sinaloa business, as well as their reputation; it doesn't look too good to outsiders if they can't even keep their _own_ house in order. The guys at the top are not likely to let this little venture go unpunished."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes at the Junior Agent who had still to open his own; unfortunately while the impudence was overwhelming, DiNozzo's logic was sound.

"Come on, we're going," Gibbs said as he slowly pushed himself to his feet. The long days of work and the effects of his injury were all taking their toll.

"Where are we going?" Tony asked curiously even as he got to his feet.

"Where I say we're going," Gibbs replied flippantly, heading towards the elevator. "I'm not holding the doors for you DiNozzo, so if you don't want to use the stairs get your ass in gear."

Tony ran to catch up.

* * *

><p>Tony scowled fiercely at the man sat opposite him.<p>

If he had known DC just a little better, if he had been just a little less exhausted and been paying just a little more attention to the road signs then maybe he would have known where they were headed before pulling up to the imposing building; perhaps he would have been able to talk Gibbs out of it.

Perhaps…

But he suspected not.

"I don't need to be here, Gibbs," he insisted, and he knew he was coming across as a whiny ten-year-old, but he couldn't find it within himself to really care.

"I told you I wasn't the soft option," Gibbs replied with a rather victorious smile. "The case is pretty much done on our end; ATF and the DEA have still got their work cut out for them but there's not really all that much more that we can do here in DC. So, while we might still have the paperwork to finish off, it's not as important as this," Gibbs insisted, gesturing to the room around him.

Tony's scowl deepened as he started muttering viciously to himself: "Kick a man when he's down…old man on a power trip…would have thought _my_ opinion might be important…"

"DiNozzo, stop muttering to yourself; you may be here to get your head checked out, but if you carry on like that they'll think you need to be looked at in the psych ward," Gibbs pointed out wryly.

"So you're going to get your arm checked out, then," Tony stated matter-of-factly, a smile gracing his lips for the first time since he had entered the sterile environment of Bethesda.

Gibbs' responding glare was far more menacing than Tony's had been.

* * *

><p>"Well that was a waste of time," Tony said as he got out of the car and stretched his long limbs, yawning widely as he did so.<p>

"No it wasn't," Gibbs replied firmly, although he had to admit that it did seem like it. They had spent a good two hours waiting to be seen and then they had had to wait for the results of the scan to come back. During that time, Tony had somehow managed to get him to agree to having his shoulder checked over; _'smooth talking'_ didn't seem a strong enough phrase to describe DiNozzo's capabilities.

Both of them were fine.

Gibbs knew that Ducky had been right in suggesting that it was better to be safe than sorry, especially in regards to head-wounds and especially in regards to DiNozzo, but both men were far from patient.

Give Gibbs a nest and a rifle and he could sit still for days at a time, but in any other circumstances he liked things to happen.

DiNozzo, too, seemed to lack the wherewithal to sit in one place for any great deal of time.

"Come on, we've got a steak and beer with our names on it," Gibbs said as he headed towards his front door. They had both decided after their fruitless wait at the hospital that the paperwork could be ignored until the following day.

After the initial bickering that went back and forth about the validity of a hospital visit had died down, the two agents had settled into an easy conversation surprising both men, who were usually less than forthcoming with personal details, at just how easy and free-flowing it was between them.

"Only _one_ beer?" Tony asked as he sank gracelessly onto the sofa, finally allowing the exhaustion to show.

"Only one beer," Gibbs confirmed. "Then we move onto the bourbon."

"Sounds good," Tony agreed sleepily before rousing himself and heading towards the kitchen, moving with familiarity around the small room as he gathered together all the necessary ingredients for their dinner. He didn't think it right that Gibbs should be forced to cook for the two of them when the older man was just as tired and was still very much suffering from his gunshot-wound.

"I suppose I should probably look into getting myself a bed," Tony said as he got a pan of boiling water ready; he loved steak and Gibbs cooked them to perfection, but Tony actually liked things with his steak, like vegetables or fries.

"There's no rush," Gibbs assured the man quietly, hoping that his usual taciturn nature wasn't making the younger man think he was outstaying his welcome.

"I know," Tony replied, looking up at the Senior Agent and smiling gratefully. "But I'm paying for an apartment that I've barely stepped foot in; I should probably try and get around to moving in there at some point."

"I'm sure you'll have a welcome volunteer in Abby," Gibbs smirked viciously.

Tony winced. "Do you think she'll be offended if I ban her from adding coffins and general Gothic touches to the place?"

"She'll probably just see it as a challenge to get around," Gibbs shrugged with his good shoulder as he set the table and handed over a beer.

* * *

><p>"I don't want to bang my own drum too much, but I think we did pretty well together," Tony stated as they tucked into their steaks. "We solved the case, caught the bad guy and closed down a major smuggling ring right out of Norfolk."<p>

"We did good, DiNozzo, but don't let it go to your head," the twinkle in his eyes belied the warning in his words.

"I'm sure you'll do everything in your power to make sure that it never does as time goes by," Tony replied with a knowing grin as he thought of the head-slaps and the sarcastic comments that had already been thrown his way.

Gibbs nodded his agreement, glad to hear the unspoken promise in Tony's words: that he was thinking about NCIS in the long term.

"Of course, I would like to point out that _you_ were the one who ended up in hospital," Tony said glibly, a satisfied smirk adorning his face.

"So did you, DiNozzo," Gibbs contradicted the younger man.

"Yeah but _I_ only had a little bump on the head; _you_ got _shot_," Tony pointed out. "That counts as a _proper_ trip to the hospital! So you can't hold my little bang to the head against me."

"Whatever you say, DiNozzo," Gibbs rolled his eyes, unwilling to venture any further into what he had already termed _'DiNozzo Logic'_.

"I'm glad you agree," Tony's grin was full of mischief.

Then Tony turned serious.

"I don't know if I've actually said this yet, but thank you," Tony said with heartfelt sincerity. "I know I'm not exactly poster-boy material when it comes to the recruitment ads," Gibbs snorted at the understatement as he thought of the official reprimands and the reckless, often impulsive, bordering on suicidal behaviour. "You took a hell of a chance on me and I appreciate that; I'll do everything in my power to make sure I don't disappoint you."

"Hell, I know that, DiNozzo," Gibbs replied honestly. "And I didn't hire you so you'd feel indebted to me…"

"I know," Tony interrupted quickly, and he _did_ know that. Gibbs had many flaws, but he was a man who held the values of honour and forthrightness to the highest degree, and while Tony was quite sure that the man could be as manipulative as the situation needed him to be, he was equally sure that Gibbs would always _prefer_ the straightforward approach.

"Good, so we can leave this conversation here, then," Gibbs stated rather than questioned.

He was secretly very happy to hear that Tony was so certain of that and Gibbs hoped that he would always be able to hear such conviction from the younger man and that he would always deserve such staunch faith.

"Sure," Tony nodded, allowing a small huff of laughter to escape as he thought of the unlikely heart-to-heart; he was rarely so frank with his true emotions and he knew that Gibbs tended to avoid any and all sentimentality if he could, but still, the words needed to be said.

"Get some rest, DiNozzo; we've got all that paperwork to look forward to tomorrow," Gibbs said as he stood, gathering the plates and carrying them over to the sink.

"You sure know how to brighten a man's day," Tony noted sardonically as his thoughts were drawn to the small forest that would have to be executed so the top brass could get their paperwork.

"Well that's always been my aim in life, DiNozzo," Gibbs mockingly replied.

"Seriously?" Tony questioned. "Well, I've got to tell you Gibbs, for a Marine Scout Sniper, your aim sucks!"

* * *

><p>The paperwork was going slowly, as neither Gibbs nor DiNozzo had the impetus to just sit down and finish it; they were both still tired, despite a good night of sleep and the urgency to close the case had ended with the death of Rodriquez and Aikers' arrest.<p>

Gibbs felt himself being watched and looked up only to see Morrow leaning over the railings above watching the two men carefully, before gesturing that the Senior Agent should join him in his office.

"Back in a minute," Gibbs offered as he walked by DiNozzo's desk.

The younger man look up and saw the Director retreating back towards his office and was under no illusion as to where Gibbs was headed. Tony had almost completed his first full case with NCIS and he knew that the Director would want a sit. rep. before making any final decisions about his future at the Agency.

He knew that Gibbs would support him but he also knew that the final decision remained Morrow's, despite the Director's offer of a carte blanche for the Senior Agent to create his own team.

* * *

><p>"Agent Gibbs," Morrow nodded a welcome from behind his desk as the Senior Agent entered the office.<p>

Gibbs settled himself comfortably into the chair opposite the Director's desk; he was under no illusion as to what the impromptu meeting was about but he held absolutely no concerns whatsoever.

As far as Gibbs was concerned Tony had done more than enough to prove himself worthy of a position at NCIS even before he had arrived in DC; _since_ he'd arrived, the former Homicide Detective had gone above and beyond to see the case through to the end and a successful conclusion at that.

There was nothing that Morrow could say to persuade him that he'd made a mistake in making Tony his first choice for his hand-picked team.

He waited.

"I'm glad that nasty mess over at Norfolk has been all wrapped up," Morrow began, leaning back in his chair as he studied the man before him.

"I wouldn't say it was all wrapped up, but we're pretty much done on our end; ATF and Border Patrol, as well as those involved in the relative areas of Military Intelligence, are no doubt going to want to try and work with the DEA in an effort to track down the missing weapons and see who's been doing the buying."

"But we just have to finish the paperwork on our end?" Morrow clarified.

"Pretty much," Gibbs nodded.

"And everything went well, in your opinion?" Morrow asked carefully.

"As well as you'd expect under the circumstances," Gibbs replied, being deliberately tight-lipped.

He liked and respected Morrow and appreciated the fact that the Director was usually much more straightforward than his counterparts in the other alphabet agencies.

Usually…

He would much rather Morrow just ask whatever was really on his mind but Gibbs was not in the mood to play the Pied Piper and lead the way.

"The circumstances?" Morrow queried.

"A weapons smuggling ring being run right out of Norfolk Navy Base that is supposedly supplying already heavily armed drugs Cartels and that has already resulted in the death of one good Marine and a whole host of other victims…I'd say the end result was never going to be perfect," Gibbs replied, his tone not too far from being disrespectfully sardonic.

"Fair enough," Morrow conceded with a small smile at the Senior Agent's brazen cheek.

Gibbs simply raised an eyebrow in wait; his stubborn determination to make Morrow speak first had won over his usual impatience with inane chatter.

"DiNozzo," Morrow finally came to the crux of what he'd wanted to discuss.

"DiNozzo," Gibbs repeated.

"You wanted him for your team; do you stand by that decision?"

"Absolutely," Gibbs answered immediately.

"Ok then," Morrow nodded and turned to some paperwork awaiting his signatures.

Gibbs frowned.

Morrow had been questioning Gibbs' decision to hire DiNozzo from the get-go and now he was suddenly ok with it all? The Senior Agent could usually rely upon his Director to be straightforward but his current behaviour seemed to be anything but usual.

"That's it?" Gibbs questioned, his former determination replaced by curiosity and incredulity.

"You may have been the one to be working alongside him, Jethro, but that doesn't mean I haven't been watching. Do I think you may have taken on more than you can handle in choosing someone as unpredictable as DiNozzo? You bet, and I'm certainly going to enjoy watching the fallout.

"But putting aside all of that, ignoring the discrepancies in his files and his tendency to visit the hospital at least once a week, disregarding the amount of crap circulating about him in the scuttlebutt and glossing over his more impulsive behaviour which can lead to rather…interesting outcomes," Morrow struggled for the right word as he recalled all the more colourful details from DiNozzo's personnel files.

"Discounting _all_ of that, I think you've made a good decision in taking on DiNozzo," Morrow nodded. "He's got good instincts and while he _can_ follow orders he seems to be just as capable of telling you _'no'_ should the situation require it; you need someone who's prepared to stand up to you every now and then, Gibbs, and while DiNozzo might hide it pretty well, the man seems to have a rather steely backbone to me."

The Senior Agent remained quiet.

He wasn't hearing anything he didn't already know but he had not expected the Director to have been won over so easily.

"I know you think I screwed you over with Nixon, and I'm brave enough to admit that I _did_ take a certain amount of pleasure in seeing you being forced to work alongside him, but that's not why I did it; I was _forced_ to assign a Probationary Agent to your team because there was _no one_ else!

"You have managed to shrug off every single Agent that I have sent your way and seemingly with little to no effort on your part. Some of them have been competent and some of them certainly would have been once you'd trained them up, but you didn't want _any_ of them.

"Did you seriously think that someone _you_ wanted wouldn't catch my attention? I've done my homework on this one, Gibbs and while I can't say I know DiNozzo, I do know exactly what I'm going to be getting from him as an NCIS Agent; I wouldn't turn him away from this agency any more than I would you," Morrow finished, his sincere tone letting Gibbs know that he meant every word.

"Here, this is for DiNozzo," Morrow said as he handed over an envelope. "Give it to him when you think he's ready for it."

"Is this what I think it is?" Gibbs asked as the Director headed for the door.

Morrow smiled as he paused at the door; "I'm needed in MTAC."

Gibbs looked down at the envelope and realised that the Director had left it unsealed; he was under no illusions that it was far from being an oversight.

He glanced inside and immediately let out a laugh; Morrow had many flaws but Gibbs would always appreciate the fact that he was a man who never dwelt in the grey areas of life.

* * *

><p>"So, no regrets?" Gibbs asked.<p>

Tony stopped and took a good look around; "Well, a bed would probably have been a good investment, but no, no regrets."

Everyone in the room knew Tony was not talking about his new, unfurnished apartment.

"I can get you an extra coffin; it would look really cool in that corner," Abby offered as she sidled up to the young man with two bottles of beer, one of which she offered him.

"Where's mine?" Gibbs asked with a frown.

Abby rolled her eyes and gestured none too subtly with a nod towards the oldest person in the room.

"Really, Jethro! You're on painkillers and antibiotics that should _not_ be mixed with alcohol; while young Abigail may have brought enough beer to supply a small Aircraft Carrier, _I _have brought along something much more appropriate for you," Ducky supplied as he handed over a bottle of freshly squeezed orange juice.

Gibbs made no move to take the proffered beverage and his usually stoic façade faltered as his dismay shone through.

"Here," DiNozzo handed over his own beer and moved across the room to get himself another. "No offence, Ducky, but I find it hard to believe that you seriously think he's taking anything _but_ the antibiotics, and I know that the ones he's taking are actually ok to take with alcohol."

"The fact that you know that, Anthony, is a sure sign that we will need to keep a _very_ close eye on you," Ducky replied with a resigned sigh.

The M.E. then turned to Abby and described all the ways she could be harming her body and her natural sleep patterns with her proclivity for sleeping in coffins and stressing that what their latest team member really needed was a comfortable bed and all of the benefits that go with it.

"I've got something for you," Gibbs said as he walked up to DiNozzo who was gazing out of the window with a content look about him.

"It's not a slap to the back of the head, is it?" Tony asked with a twinkle in his eyes.

"No, but I'm sure I could find one of those if you want," Gibbs offered.

"I'll pass," Tony said quickly, a chuckle escaping as he mockingly took a step back and lifted his hands up in defence.

Gibbs smiled; it was good to see DiNozzo still had his mischievous impudence even after the long hours, little sleep and all the after-effects of a concussion. The Senior Agent was a man who tolerated very little in the way of frivolity, but he knew that he needed the younger man's humour and affability to balance him out.

He handed over the envelope without a word.

Tony frowned, but reached for it, his natural curiosity getting the better of him. He opened the envelope, put his hand in and brought out a fistful of paperwork; his frown quickly replaced with confusion.

"Is this what I think it is?" he unknowingly mimicked Gibbs' words with the Director. "What about FLETC and the whole _'wait and see'_ policy that Morrow's got going?"

"I guess he changed his mind," Gibbs shrugged. He didn't really know all the details, as Morrow had spent the rest of his day in MTAC and hadn't wanted to be disturbed, but he knew the most important detail.

"I'm an Agent?" Tony asked, his disbelief obvious.

Both Ducky and Abby had stopped their debate over the merits of sleeping in a coffin to listen in on the conversation. Neither of them knew what Gibbs had been carting about in that envelope all afternoon, but they were both very happy with the contents.

"Yay Tony!" Abby squealed as she threw her arms around the latest recruit.

"Well done, lad," Ducky smiled warmly and offered a gentle handshake. "I'm very happy to hear that you will be staying."

"Thanks," Tony mumbled still staring in surprise at the paperwork in his hands,

"Tony?" Gibbs asked gently and waited until the younger man was looking at him, Abby still firmly hanging off one side like a giant, black limpet. "Good job, Agent DiNozzo," he offered with a smile and a handshake of his own.

"Agent DiNozzo," Tony tested the title before nodding. "I like it!" he grinned.

"_Special_ Agent DiNozzo," Abby reminded him, pointing to the full title on Tony's new NCIS ID card that contained his new status.

"_Very_ Special Agent DiNozzo, if you please." The grin showed no signs of dimming.

"You're certainly _'special'_, DiNozzo," Gibbs commentated wryly, arching an eyebrow in such a way that there could be no doubt that his comment was meant mockingly.

"Glad you noticed, Boss," Tony winked.

Gibbs finally allowed a smile of his own; he liked how naturally the title of _'Boss'_ rolled off DiNozzo's tongue. "Welcome to the team, Very Special Agent DiNozzo."

* * *

><p><em><strong>There we have it; Tony is now a fully paid-up member of the NCIS crew!<strong>_

_**Rule 22 – Never **_**ever**_** bother Gibbs in interrogation.**_

_**BDU – Battle Dress Uniform or combat fatigues.**_

_**DEA – Drugs Enforcement Agency**_

_**Sit. Rep. – Situation Report.**_

_**Next up – the last chapter, I think. The rest of NCIS hears about Tony's change in status, Tony moves into his apartment, a conversation with Sam strengthens his resolve and Gibbs finally starts the move towards **_**his**_** team.**_


	12. Chapter 12

_**Hello and thanks once again to everyone who has taken the time to review/message/alert the story – your continued support has made writing a real pleasure and helped to keep the inspiration flowing.**_

_**We are at the final chapter now and while it has been a long time coming, Tony is now an official member of **_**"Team Gibbs"**_** and NCIS – we all know which one is the more important!**_

_**I'm so sorry it has taken me this long to finish – 2012 has been a hectic year, so much more so than expected, and finding the time to settle down and find the right frame of mind to write has been difficult. I do not think I have even **_**seen**_** an episode of NCIS this year – the UK screenings are obviously later than in the US but I could not even hazard a guess as to where we are with the seasons now. **_

_**So, sorry once again, and thank you for your patience.**_

* * *

><p>Tony wasn't sure what to expect when he next entered the bullpen.<p>

He had not been at NCIS long before he had learnt that the scuttlebutt in the building travelled as fast as wildfire and could be just as damaging. He also knew from an early stage that he had made enemies simply by being given a chance to earn a spot on Gibbs' team; Ducky had suggested professional jealousy rather than anything of a more personal nature, but Tony had suffered too long through the paranoia of his unpopularity at Baltimore to be so easily dissuaded from _that_ line of thinking.

Now he was not only Special Agent DiNozzo, and ahead of schedule, but he was also going to be working alongside Gibbs on a more permanent basis.

As far as Tony was concerned he may well have just committed social suicide within the confines of NCIS.

Gibbs had headed straight to the labs, looking for Abby's final test results on the case and Tony appreciated that it needed to be done so that all pertinent information could be passed along to both the prosecution and other agencies involved; however, Tony couldn't help but wish for Gibbs' presence when he stepped off the elevator into the bullpen, no matter how juvenile that request sounded!

All faces seemed to turn to him as one, and not one of them was smiling.

All of a sudden, Tony felt a slap on his back and he fought down an instinctive jump at the unexpected contact before he turned warily only to find the jovial face of Agent Pacci smiling back at him.

"Tony, congratulations," he offered out a hand and when Tony hesitantly met the handshake, Pacci brought his other arm in to rest on the younger man's elbow; a silent but understood show of support that Tony greatly appreciated.

He didn't really know Pacci yet, but what he did know was that the man was fastidious in all things, from the way he dressed to the way he kept his notes; OCD tendencies aside, he was a good man with solid principles and an easy smile. He had been one of the first from NCIS to offer the hand of friendship and had done so with no expectation of having the favour returned.

"I knew you were going to be in this for the long haul," Pacci grinned, ignoring the avid stares directed their way.

"Do I want to know how long you guessed in the betting pool?" Tony asked with a wry grin.

Pacci's grin deepened; Tony's comment had not been particularly loud, but it had been loud enough so that some of the eavesdroppers knew that the latest addition to the Agency was far from oblivious.

"You ever make it that long, and I'll let you know," Pacci offered, not so subtly allowing Tony and everyone else to know that he expected the younger man to pass many a year in the agency.

Tony laughed, glad for the evident support in front of the rest of the bullpen's onlookers at a time when he was feeling more than a little vulnerable.

"Listen, I've got to go," Pacci informed him. "The rest of my team is waiting for me in the garage, but I just wanted to quickly stop and offer my congratulations; you've more than earned this, if what I've heard is anything to go by. I'll see you later," Pacci waved genially as he got on the elevator.

'_And what has he heard?'_ Tony asked himself rather worriedly. He turned around and started to head towards his desk when he once again became aware of everyone looking his way.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you that staring isn't polite?" Tony muttered to no one in particular.

An agent started towards him hesitantly, and Tony recognised him as Agent Adnams, a rather confrontational young man who had let the newbie know exactly how little he thought of _'the rich wannabe cop that should try not to choke on the silver spoon in his mouth.'_

Tony had refrained from saying anything at the time as he had only been a few days into his job and hadn't wanted to rock the boat. He was used to those insults, ones that were aimed at his father's money and his prestigious boarding school education; he was used to them, but he still loathed them!

It was a common assumption that money automatically meant happiness and one that Tony had given up trying to dispel; instead, he used the invisible barrier that money (or the appearance of it) seemed to conjure as an added layer of protection between him and the world.

People might envy his rather urbane look and private educational history, but they also used those markers to isolate him from the crowd; sometimes that separation was a welcome reprieve from the usual snide remarks that people seemed intent on directing his way.

That Tony grew up in a big house with expensive furniture was undeniable; so too were the many private schools that he attended throughout his childhood. He never suffered through a night of darkness because the electricity bill had been unpaid and he often went to bed more than full after gorging himself on a particularly sumptuous meal.

However, no one ever took into account the fact that he was all alone in his father's Long Island mansion; the only child of a workaholic who liked one drink too many and was rarely home and of a New York socialite who was becoming increasingly reclusive as her mental health diminished. The hired help had all been much more patient with Tony than anyone else had ever been, but they had their jobs to do and their own families to return to once the day was done.

The vast tracts of land that surrounded the house were beautiful, but more than a little inconvenient for picking up idle conversation with the neighbour's kids, and his time away at the various boarding schools throughout his childhood often meant that he didn't really know any of the local children as well as the fact that his closest school friends might not even in the same state once the holidays arrived.

His dinners were often much more grand than a seven year old needed, but they were prepared by a cook and not his mother; he often ate his meals alone and those he did have company for were very formal affairs with his father's business friends who rarely appreciated his outlook on life.

So yes, his childhood had been one without material want, but it had lacked in every way that mattered and Tony loathed being penalised for a time he would, more often than not, rather forget.

"Agent Adnams," Tony greeted him coolly, wondering briefly just what he could say should the young man start giving him any lip over his Special Agent status.

"Is it true?" the Junior Agent asked, his expression a mixture of grudging respect, mild disbelief and curiosity.

Tony sighed. He had expected all sorts of digs being thrown his way, but he hadn't thought he'd have to actually _prove_ his newfound status.

"Yes, it's true, I can show you my badge if you don't believe me," Tony offered, sarcasm lacing his tone.

"Your badge?" Adnams questioned confusedly. "Oh, no, we all know _that_ is true; the Director's secretary told us yesterday."

"Then what are you talking about?" Tony asked, feeling his own confusion coming to the forefront.

"Did you really save Gibbs?"

"Save Gibbs?" Tony repeated, wondering what the hell the younger man was talking about. He looked up and noticed that everyone had seemingly shifted one or two steps closer to them in a poorly concealed effort to listen in on the rest of the conversation.

"Yeah, the day before yesterday in the interview room; did you really save him?"

"Do I look like I need saving, Adnams?" came a wry voice from behind them even as Tony mouthed to himself _'in the interview room?'_ The newly appointed Special Agent had been so caught up in his bemusement that he had failed to notice the elevator's quiet _'ding'_ behind him. His wonder quickly turned to panic: what if the Senior Agent thought Tony was trying to bolster his pathetic reputation at the expense of Gibbs'?

"Gibbs, I have no idea what the hell they're talking about, I swear I've not been saying anything…"

"I think, DiNozzo," Gibbs interrupted the man's nervous rambling. "That they're referring to the incident where you threw yourself between me and a pissed off, un-cuffed Marine." The Senior Agent had been careful not to say that he needed rescuing, finding the very idea more than a little offensive, but he was under no illusion that many in the bullpen would believe otherwise.

Normally he would not endure such tripe, but he also knew that there were many in the office who needed to see that DiNozzo had been handpicked by him for a damn good reason, and the young man's ability to watch his six was just the starting point. Over time, Gibbs was certain that most of them would understand DiNozzo's abilities were not to be questioned; while the young man's often abrasive personality would mean he will always have one or two in-office rivals, his success would speak more eloquently than even the verbose Special Agent could manage.

"_That_?" Tony queried with just a little disbelief. He could honestly say he hadn't thought anymore about it from the moment he threw a pissed off Aikers back into his seat.

"Yes, that," Gibbs agreed, perfectly able to read the man's incredulity.

"I was just doing my job; what the hell is there to be so curious about _that_?" Tony asked, turning to face Adnams suspiciously, his mind automatically making the leap to any one of a number of snide remarks that could be thrown his way any moment by the crowd of onlookers.

Gibbs bit back a sigh; he knew that for Tony the man really had just been doing his job the only way he knew how, and the Senior Agent was acutely aware of the rather disturbing fact that throwing himself between an irate and highly-trained Marine and his injured boss was par for the course and certainly one of the less dramatic circumstances DiNozzo seemingly always attracted.

The fact that the younger man's posture had automatically switched to a more defensive position as his suspicious mind kicked into top-gear was a thoroughly depressing one. Gibbs found himself once again wondering just how deep the emotional wounds inflicted by DiNozzo's fellow colleagues in law enforcement went and just how much of the man's career had been blighted by such animosity.

"DiNozzo, Morrow might have given you a free pass for your classes the rest of this week, but that doesn't mean I'm going to be so nice," Gibbs uttered. He had noticed the increasing unease that seemed to radiate from the younger man and knew that while DiNozzo might be one of the first to seek the spotlight, he did so on his own terms and felt more than a little wrong-footed when faced with intense and unwanted scrutiny.

"I don't think I've ever expected such pleasantries from you, Boss," Tony offered cheekily, momentarily forgetting about his avid audience.

The other agents all seemed to hold their collective breath, never having heard anyone get away with being so blatantly impudent to the gruff, no-nonsense Marine.

"Desk, _now_, DiNozzo!" Gibbs offered with an exaggerated sign, masking his concern and his humour at the bullpen's comically overdramatic reaction to DiNozzo's quip with his usual mask of frustration and exasperation.

"Sure thing, Boss," Tony offered with an easy grin and turning away from the gathered crowd without another thought about them.

"Don't you have any work to do?" Gibbs asked rhetorically before heading towards his own desk and hiding his amusement at the way they jumped almost to attention in unison; with their fear of him and the utter bewilderment that often seemed to follow DiNozzo he really could have a lot of fun.

* * *

><p>"For the last time Hallom, yes, it <em>was<em> DiNozzo that ran into interrogation to help Gibbs with their suspect," came an exasperated voice that Gibbs recognised as belonging to one of the techs that often passed their time in the observation room, recording every second they were legally able to in order to provide NCIS and the courts with every scrap of information gathered.

He had stepped out for yet another coffee run after the paperwork had stated to blur and had decided to find one of Abby's Caff-Pows, as well as a tea for Ducky and a _ridiculously_ sweet coffee for DiNozzo; the coffee shop was a regular stop off for many that worked on the Navy base who found the workplace coffee just a bit too tame.

It had been while he was waiting for everyone's drinks to arrive that he overheard someone mention DiNozzo's name.

It was hardly surprising that people were talking about the newest Agent.

DiNozzo was no longer a possibility at NCIS but a permanent fixture and one chosen by the infamously ornery Gibbs; there was always going to be _something_ in the scuttlebutt about the younger man.

Gibbs slinked down at the front of the busy queue to listen in unseen, eager to hear what people were saying when they didn't know they were being overheard.

"So the newbie _really_ saved Gibbs?" asked a dubious Agent.

Gibbs frowned, why did everyone seem so set on the idea of him needing to be saved?

"I'm not sure the man _needed_ saving," the tech replied, and the Senior Agent was more than a little grateful for the confidence in that assertion. "But DiNozzo certainly had his six," and at that, Gibbs smiled; _that_ was the point that everyone needed to grasp.

DiNozzo was more than just a competent Agent, he was the kind of Agent that would go to great lengths to look after those he countered as his own, and NCIS should feel damn lucky that the young man had decided to make his home there!

"Really?" came an incredulous voice.

"Yeah…?" the tech answered slowly, as though waiting for an explanation behind the incredulity.

"He's just so…" the Agent reached for an appropriate word. "So…"

"So what, Rotherstone?" asked the tech, his tone turning to one of irritation. "So far he's been nothing but nice to me and the rest of the guys; for one thing, he doesn't pretend as though he's not in the same room as us, unlike _some_ assholes in this building. And from what I've heard about his abilities in the field, there doesn't seem to be much lacking there, either.

"His actions in that interview room have only strengthened my good opinion of him, and if you're going to hold the fact that he's got some rich daddy back in New York against him, then frankly, you're a fucking idiot! The fact that he's here and doing this job…that he _chooses_ to do this job…is one of the most important things you need to know about him, as far as I'm concerned.

"And personally, I think that if he _has_ lived the luxurious, easy-going life you all seem to think he has, then he shouldn't be anywhere _near_ as cynical as he is; so you've really got to ask yourself, where did all _that_ come from? Look, I've got to go; Pacci is bringing in a suspect and we need to prep one of the interview rooms, but do me a favour and lay off DiNozzo; he's already done more than enough to prove himself."

Gibbs smiled a bitter smile. A tech that worked in observation, the type of employee that was often overlooked by the more senior members of staff, had DiNozzo pegged better than the paid investigators.

The tech had understood, without asking and without being told, that DiNozzo's life had been far from easy and his fabled silver-spoon life had done nothing to curtail his rather jaded outlook on life; that the tech had even _spotted_ that cynicism through the multitude of masks DiNozzo donned spoke wonders about the man's observational skills. Maybe Gibbs should see about getting him promoted.

He headed back to the bullpen, happy in the knowledge that the number of those fighting in DiNozzo's corner was gradually increasing.

* * *

><p>The two of them had finished all the necessary paperwork for the case and handed over all relevant documents to the prosecutor who was eager to start the legal proceedings against Aikers.<p>

Between the seemingly endless bureaucracy and the unnerving stares being directed his way, DiNozzo was very much on edge and Gibbs knew that he had to get the younger man out of there and quickly.

The gun range out of town was far enough away from the Navy Yard that they wouldn't have to worry about anymore unwanted stares and it promised a good diversion for a couple of hours.

At first they had shot at their targets in silence, their attention focused downrange as they systematically shredded their paper cut-outs.

Gibbs had stopped firing when he noticed the target next to his had not got one bullet-hole centre-mass. He was about to ask DiNozzo if he was aiming with his eyes closed when he noticed where the bullet-holes actually were; the younger man had been aiming at the limbs.

He had seen in DiNozzo's first few days at NCIS another target with similar holes and he acknowledged the good sense of learning to take controlled, non-lethal shots at the limbs for a chance to bring in a coherent and, most importantly, _breathing_ suspect.

Unfortunately for Tony, Gibbs still wanted to put him through his own unique and unusual barrage of tests.

"You know that what you're asking me to do basically amounts to sacrilege of the highest level," Tony pointed out entirely serious.

"DiNozzo," Gibbs sighed with exasperation.

"I've had it since college! It's my happy make feel good movie!" Tony protested, resolutely pointing the gun anywhere but downrange.

"The pay _is_ pretty lousy, but I'm still relatively certain that even a Special Agent could afford to buy another DVD," Gibbs challenged the younger man with a raised eyebrow.

"But…" Tony lamented, trying to think of any reason that he could give Gibbs that would make the stubborn man change his name. "My _mother_ bought me that," he finally settled on.

Gibbs wasn't impressed.

"You're mother died when you were a _kid_, DiNozzo; I'm far from being a technological expert," he gave Tony a fierce look at the man's snort. "But even _I_ know that DVD's aren't _that_ old, and bringing in a dead relative…?" he asked in disbelief. "That's pretty low, DiNozzo."

"It was worth a try," Tony shrugged unrepentantly. He had loved his mother dearly; despite all her short-comings as a parent and her various psychological imbalances she had loved him fiercely.

He also knew that _those_ looks people gave whenever they caught a whiff of childhood tragedy drove him towards rather inconvenient homicidal urges; to avoid those faux expressions of sympathy and meaningless platitudes, it was, more often than not, easier to pretend that the whole incident hadn't left any adverse effects on him.

He was beginning to understand that he didn't need to play such games with Gibbs, but a lifetime of habits was hard to break, no matter how impressive the scowl, or how high the eyebrows arched in disbelief.

"You _so_ owe me the special edition DVD, Boss," Tony said with a sigh as he raised his gun and aimed reluctantly down-range. He fired and didn't need to look to know that he had just shot a hole through _'It's a Wonderful Life'_, shattering his favourite feel-good movie.

"Atta boy, DiNozzo," Gibbs said proudly as he patted the younger man on the top of his head with what could _almost_ pass for affection.

* * *

><p>Tony was packing up what few belongings he had at Gibbs house, finally ready to move into his new flat. He had bought himself a new bed and Abby had stocked his fridge with all the essentials before Ducky vetted it, adding vegetables and other healthy items and muttering to himself about the amount of room taken up by beer.<p>

The flat still looked like no one could possibly live there due to the present sparse nature of the place, but Tony was looking forward to making it his own. He had thankfully talked Abby out of providing him with a coffin for his lounge, but he had no doubt that her enthusiastic nature would mean her presence on one of his many outings to further furnish his apartment.

"Hey, are you nearly done?" Gibbs asked as he entered the room, looking around and feeling more than slightly depressed at how few material possessions the younger man carried with him; he looked forward to DiNozzo settling into his new apartment if only for the touch of finality it might add. If Tony had a place to call home, with things to call his own, then maybe he would be more prepared to stay beyond his usual two years.

"Yep, all packed up and ready to go," Tony smiled as he turned around. "Listen, Gibbs, I just wanted to thank you for all of this," he gestured to the room around him. "For everything, I mean. For putting me up and for giving me a chance to prove…"

"DiNozzo," Gibbs interrupted with a sigh. "I need a beer, and to do that, we need to get going to your apartment, seeing as how Abby bought you a brewery's worth."

Tony smiled; he knew that Gibbs was not into the whole speaking from the heart thing, but at least now the man knew he had Tony's gratitude, even if the Senior Agent wouldn't let him get the actual words out.

"Well, come on then chauffeur; no racing and ruining the Doctor's hard work, mind you," he grinned cheekily at the older man as he slung his bag over his shoulder and walked out of the door.

Gibbs laughed to himself and followed him out; things were becoming more concrete with DiNozzo being granted his Special Agent status, and things had never felt more right.

* * *

><p>"So, here we are then," Gibbs said as he settled down on the floor next to DiNozzo and held out a beer for the younger man.<p>

"Here we are," Tony agreed as he chinked their bottles together.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, savouring their beer and the quiet companionship.

"God, you really need a sofa, DiNozzo," Gibbs said as he stretched slightly trying to find a more comfortable position.

"Too much for your old bones?" Tony asked teasingly. "I thought you Marines were supposed to be tougher than that."

Gibbs merely raised a challenging eyebrow as he reached over and slapped the younger man up the back of his head without a word; it was something that Tony was sure would become a familiar ritual as his time at NCIS passed.

"That's never going to get old for you, is it?"

"Not as long as you continue to earn them, DiNozzo," Gibbs agreed with a wry grin.

"Then I guess I'd better get used to it; I've never been very good at behaving myself," Tony supplied with a wicked grin.

"Ya think, DiNozzo?" Gibbs snorted at the understatement. "I actually had figured that one out for myself back in Baltimore."

"Well then, I guess you deserve every mess I'm bound to drag you into."

"I guess I do," Gibbs sighed resignedly.

* * *

><p>Gibbs had returned home and Tony was left alone for the first time in his new apartment. He stood in the middle of the lounge and looked around, trying to visualise the place as his own and wondering what he could add to make it feel like a home rather than simply a place to rest his head.<p>

Back in Baltimore, Tony's apartment had been sparse at best, but then he had never really _needed_ to make it his own as, more often than not, he was never there; the long hours taken up by Baltimore's Homicide Department kept him busy enough but Sam had always made sure his free time wasn't spent lounging on a sofa feeling sorry for himself in a half-empty apartment.

Sometimes the two of them would go out to a local diner and talk about anything but work – the latest sports game, a new movie, their favourite Bushisms; other times he would go to Sam's house and he would be presented with a home-cooked meal and trade banter with Sam and his daughter.

Of course, Tony also had his own way of entertaining himself in such a way that inevitably kept him out of his apartment; the bars and clubs in Baltimore afforded him ample opportunity to pick up his latest conquest, and when he was truly determined to go home with some beautiful woman, his natural charm ensured that he never struck out.

Common sense dictated that it was always much better to go to their place and avoid any awkwardness with his latest one-night-stand in the morning by simply leaving as soon as he woke up; there were far too many complications attached if it all happened in his own apartment!

The ring of his cell phone drew his attention away from his private musings.

"Hey Sam," Tony smiled, always happy to hear from one of the few people he counted as family. He had wanted to talk to his former partner in depth about the latest changes in his life but he had thought he'd have another couple of days to get himself together and figure out exactly what it was he wanted to say.

"Hey kid, how are you doing?" came the jovial response.

"I'm ok, I'm good, really good actually…I think," Tony did not normally struggle for a comprehensive answer to such simple questions.

"You think?" Sam queried, a little concern creeping in.

"I, er…well, my probation is over," Tony started. "They've granted me full status as a Special Agent."

As soon as he confessed to that out loud, he felt the guilt coil in his gut, heavy and hot like molten lead. He already knew of course that he could no longer work alongside Sam, either in Baltimore or anywhere else, due to his record and Sam's disability, but the confession finally made it seem real.

The admission felt like the final act of separation in their partnership and while Tony was going onwards and upwards in regards to his own career, Sam's newfound disability had more or less ended his, taking the man away from everything he loved about the job, like walking the streets and chasing down the perps.

To Tony and his unyielding attitude towards loyalty, it felt a lot like betrayal, and the fact that he felt this way about Sam, who had done so much for him in both his professional and his personal life, made him feel physically sick.

"Well of course you did, you idiot," came the unexpected reply over the phone-line. "Congratulations, Tony, I couldn't be more proud of you."

"Really?" Tony asked quietly. He knew that they didn't need to be face-to-face for Sam to pick up on his uneasiness; they never had. Sam had learnt to understand Tony in a way few others had ever managed; even after only two years, Sam knew Tony better than people who had known him his whole life.

Gibbs was clearly a quick study, but Tony wasn't sure how far the man would go; he was observant but the former Gunnery Sergeant also did a lot to avoid the more personal aspects of any kind of relationship.

"Tony," Sam sighed down the line. "Of course I am; how could I not be," he stated rather than asked. "My life isn't over, and even if it was, there is no way in hell I'd ever be ok with you putting everything on hold because you feel like you're abandoning me. News flash, kid, shit happens and you can either give up or move on, and I've never been the surrendering type."

"But you make such a pretty damsel in distress," Tony teased, briefly lightening the mood before returning to the more serious side of their conversation. "I can't stop feeling that way though, you know," he confessed quietly.

"I know you can't," Sam smiled. "While I hate the fact that you feel like hell when you should be out celebrating, your loyalty is something that I could never regret being on the receiving end of, understood?"

"Understood," Tony agreed with a sigh. He hadn't known just how badly he had needed Sam's blessing until it was given.

"So, Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, huh? That's a hell of a mouth full!"

"That's what all the girls say," Tony quipped.

"Ha! I'm sure, kid," Sam said in a teasing tone that insisted he was anything but. "Is Gibbs treating you alright?" Jacobs knew that Gibbs was intelligent enough to know that someone of Tony's calibre should never be underappreciated, but the Marine was a gruff man not used to showing his emotions, and if there was one person who was perhaps a little too used to being on the receiving end of stoicism and a firm hand, then it was Tony DiNozzo.

"Yeah, he's been really good with helping me out, with just about everything," Tony replied with mild surprise at just how accommodating the gruff man had been as he thought of the guest room he'd inhabited, the steak dinners he'd eaten and the beers he'd shared as well as all the help with the more professional side of his new life in DC.

"That's good to know," Sam sighed with relief; DiNozzo had come a long way from the wary and ridiculously reckless young man that he had first come across in Baltimore and he would hate to see all those positive changes disappear.

Tony's natural suspicion of his fellow colleagues had grown out of years spent at the mercy of their malicious gossip and sometimes physically vicious hazing; too few of the men and women he worked with seemed inclined to ignore his roots and get to know the man in spite of it all.

Slowly but surely, Tony had left just enough of his suspicions behind to place his trust in his new partner; Sam had certainly reaped the benefits of that change, as he earned a loyal partner and friend who was damn good at the job and trusting enough to go to him before heading off on one his more hare-brained schemes.

Sam had managed to curtail some of Tony's more dangerous lone-wolf tendencies which allowed him to sleep a little better at night, as he'd managed to convince himself that even though the younger man still seemed to possess little understanding on the benefits of self-preservation, his chances of surviving to retirement had increased.

Eventually, the younger man had managed to gather enough faith in Sam that he was open to other detectives, other officers and other civilians; some of them, like Blackburn, had become fast and close friends, trusted with all job-related issues, others became friends while the rare ones, like Cathy, became family.

He knew very well that Tony was still very closed off about his more personal feelings and beliefs, but his burgeoning ability to place trust in his fellow officers was one that was vital to the job and could one day save his life.

Trust was always going to be a difficult issue with the younger man, and Sam hoped that Tony never lost his faith in him, because he doubted if he would ever get it back; Tony might give you a chance to prove yourself, but his suspicious nature and past experiences would mean he was not prepared to give much more than that.

"He, er…he actually took a bullet for me," Tony confessed quietly, still in mild disbelief at the Senior Agent's actions.

"Really?" Sam felt his eyebrows rise into his hairline; he had hoped that Tony might not start his new job by diving into the middle of a gunfight, but clearly that was asking for too much. "He ok now?"

"Yeah, it was a flesh wound to the left shoulder; he lost a lot of blood though," Tony admitted quietly and Sam could envisage the moment when the younger man had found Gibbs' injury and wondered if he was going to bury the Senior Agent rather than start working alongside him.

"He was a Marine, Tony," Sam started to explain.

"Kind of already had that one figured out for myself," came the wry if slightly bemused response.

"He's seen action and just because he was a Scout Sniper, that doesn't mean he avoided any up-close action out in the field."

"I never thought it did," Tony said, not quite sure where his former partner was going with his line of thought.

"He's been in the military and he's now a Federal Agent; so I imagine, with all that experience, he knew exactly what he was doing when he put himself in the path of that bullet," Sam finally came to the crux of the matter.

He knew very early on in their partnership that Tony would take a bullet for him without a moment's hesitation; unfortunately, it had taken Tony a lot longer to understand that the same was true in reverse. DiNozzo seemed to lack the necessary understanding to realise that Sam thought he was just as worthy and that he was just as prepared to endanger his own life if it meant saving Tony's.

"You're starting to sound like a shrink, Sam," Tony replied distastefully, although in truth he was glad for the understanding the other man never failed to supply.

Tony doubted if he would ever be able to let go of the guilt that seemed to coil itself around his gut, all leaden and raw, when someone got hurt on his behalf, but he knew that he was going to have to learn to live with that guilt. Sam and Gibbs had both now tried to convince him that it was not his fault, and while it didn't clean his conscience, their absolution helped lessen the knot in his stomach, making moving on that much easier.

"Well, you would know that better than anyone," Sam smiled as he thought of all Tony's previous grumblings about the mandatory psych evaluations required after every shooting, which in Baltimore was unfortunately rather too often.

"I've already had a _second_ meeting," Tony's voice picked up a childlike whine to it as he complained.

"And how did that go?" Sam asked cheerily, not at all sympathetic to the younger man's plight; he'd had his own fill of departmental shrinks since his shooting.

"I might not have been entirely honest with her," Tony confessed rather petulantly.

"DiNozzo, I think you're going to have plenty more opportunities to lie to the shrink," Sam laughed, not at all surprised. He had heard the younger man lie, often with half-truths and misdirection, to all manner of people, from a witness right up to the Chief of Police without ever once giving the game away. He had no doubt that Tony would give the shrink exactly what was needed to keep the sessions to a minimum.

"Like I'm the only one," Tony scoffed. Sam had been a well-seasoned Detective even before Tony arrived on the scene, and due to his involvement in various on-the-job shootings had been obligated to attend more than enough appointments in the departmental shrink's office. Before that, the older man's Special Forces career within the US Army Rangers had come with a full barrage of psychological tests throughout his time on active duty.

"Yeah, yeah," Sam dismissed the barely veiled hint at his own deception.

"So how is everything going in Baltimore?" Tony asked.

"Well, actually I have a piece of news you might be interested in," Sam replied with a smile. If his news would help alleviate some of DiNozzo's misplaced guilt, then it could only be a good thing. "I've been asked to teach at the Academy as a full time instructor."

"That's brilliant, Sam!" Tony exclaimed, with genuine joy and excitement for his friend travelling loudly down the phone line. He had been quietly worried that the limitations of his injury would break Sam down, as Tony had seen depression and bitterness consume so many other former cops. He had been anxious to find some way to make sure Sam would avoid that particular pothole but he had had no idea on how to go about achieving that goal.

Sam was the job as much as Tony was and while he was no longer in the role he had fought for during the length of his career, the fact that he could still be involved with policing would be a life-saver for a man who couldn't abide sitting on his arse and doing nothing.

"Yeah, I mean it's _something…_," Sam granted with a little less enthusiasm, still not used to the idea of being so involved in teaching cadets.

"It is more than _'something'_ Sam! This is a job where you can do just as much good as if you were still a Detective," Tony responded with certainty.

"They've got me started with firearms training, but they say it's likely I'll become more involved as time passes and that I'll no doubt act as a mentor to some of the cadets," Sam explained. It wasn't what he wanted as what he _truly_ wanted was to be a Homicide Detective in the city he loved, however, it still afforded him the opportunity to make a difference. He had to admit that the idea of _his_ cadets being the future policing force across the US did give him a slight thrill.

"I can't think of anyone more suited to the job of mentoring cadets," Tony said quietly but firmly, thinking on all that he had learnt as a result of Sam's patient and instructive role during their partnership.

"Thanks kid, that means a lot," Sam replied, his voice a little rough with emotion. He knew that his newfound disability limited his career options, but he had been initially unsure about the new venture. However, he also knew that one of the things he had most enjoyed about his and Tony's too-brief partnership were those quiet moments when Tony had looked to him for guidance and the former Ranger had been able to help hone the kid's natural talents; to know that he had a hand in shaping Tony into one of the best investigators he had ever had the good fortune to work alongside was one of his proudest achievements.

"Just think of all the fun you can have scaring the shit out of some of those cocky cadets who already think they know everything because they've seen a few too many episodes of _'NYPD Blue'_!" Tony grinned and spent nearly an hour talking with his former partner about everything and nothing, joking about their past and about their respective futures before turning in for a peaceful night's sleep, safe in the knowledge that Sam still had plenty of fight in him.

* * *

><p>Tony and Gibbs sat quietly together on the former Homicide Detective's brand new sofa, each carefully nursing a beer and reflecting on their day.<p>

DiNozzo had been at FLETC during the morning to finalise his last courses for the following week, catching a lift back with a certain talkative M.E. while Gibbs had gone into the office to finalise his own paperwork on his latest recruit with Morrow and HR.

After Gibbs had finished work, he had promptly arrived at DiNozzo's apartment, all too aware that the man's excitement might be too much for him to bear for the short trip to Baltimore.

Tony's excitement levels rivalled that of a four year old on Christmas morning because he was not only going to collect his prized possession, his beloved car, but he was also going to see his former partner, Sam Jacobs, for the first time since he had started working in DC.

They were meeting at a diner not far from Jacobs home, where the car would be sitting out front; Tony had rather nervously told Gibbs that he could drive at his usual speed if he wanted to, his anxiety over his _'baby'_ being parked on the mean streets of Baltimore overriding his self-preservation.

Gibbs was still recovering from his injury, but he did not let that stop him; he was quietly enjoying the speedy drive along I95, having missed that luxury with Tony's careful chauffeuring during his recovery.

Jacobs had looked a lot better than the last time Gibbs had seen him and for that he was infinitely grateful. The man was still moving slowly and with the continual use of a stick, but he was moving under his own steam nonetheless.

Gibbs knew that Tony didn't have any real regrets about leaving Baltimore PD for NCIS, save one or two, and they were inextricably tied up in leaving behind his former partner. Of course, it was that loyalty that had first attracted Gibbs attention; the mouthy Homicide Detective, who managed to look somewhat urbane despite his crinkled suit and five o'clock shadow, stepping up to meet an irritable Gibbs head on and threatening the Senior Agent's team with a smile on his face, for no other reason than the fact that Gibbs had managed to piss off his partner.

Unfortunately it was that same fierce loyalty that had fuelled DiNozzo's self-recriminations as he asked himself again and again what it was he could have done to save his partner from taking a bullet that effectively ended his career.

Seeing his former partner in good health would go some way to bolstering DiNozzo's own spirit.

That Jacobs looked more put together than DiNozzo was not surprising, since Tony had received a serious chest wound in his final days in Baltimore, but the contrast between the two men, as well as Jacobs' narrowed eyes and assessing gaze did serve to remind Gibbs at how much the younger man had been through and how much further he had to go before he made a full recovery.

Sam was moving more easily with his stick, despite the often frustrated sighs and glares he let loose when he found movement particularly slow. The older man had a great deal more colour to his face and he had already put back on the weight that his hospital stay had robbed him of. Despite his careful examination of his former partner and of Gibbs himself, Jacobs looked happy and at ease.

Gibbs turned to discreetly observe DiNozzo as he chatted animatedly with his former partner, and he wasn't reassured by what he saw; now that the case was over, Gibbs could truly see what an effect it had had on the younger man.

Tony had still not regained anywhere near the amount of weight he had lost during his recovery and his still too-pale and gaunt face further highlighted the bags under his eyes. The younger man still held his upper body with a little more care than was natural, but Gibbs couldn't tell whether that was because DiNozzo was still feeling some degree of pain or if it had simply become second nature during his recovery.

On the other hand, DiNozzo's eyes were still full of his impish charm and his whole body was vibrating with his seemingly untameable energy. His smile was easy and not at all forced and he was not lost in the paranoia that can follow a shooting.

No, Tony still had a way to go before he was healthy, but the man was seemingly happy and at ease with himself and the world, and Gibbs felt as though he had had a hand in that. He didn't know why that thought made him feel a small degree of pride in both himself and in DiNozzo, but he liked the idea of helping Tony and shaping him into the investigator that Gibbs knew he could be with a little guidance and more experience.

The greetings had been warm and heartfelt before the three of them had settled down in a window seat for something to eat and drink.

"_I wonder why you might possibly be wanting a window seat, kid," Sam said dryly, raising an eyebrow and sharing an amused look with Gibbs._

"_Hey, you know as well as I do that my baby is just asking to be taken, sitting pretty like that on the street," Tony waved outside as he once again checked to see that his car was indeed where Jacobs had left it. "And I can't fault a car thief for wanting such a ride, but that doesn't mean I won't hunt them down and hurt them if they so much as scratch my girl!"_

"_Heaven forbid!" Gibbs mumbled to himself, barely concealing his own amusement at the over protective streak in DiNozzo over an inanimate object._

"_Well, you drive a piece of crap sedan," Tony motioned to the NCIS registered vehicle. "It's boring and has no character or charm, so I'm not surprised that you're not overly protective of it; you're probably _hoping_ someone will pinch it so you can get on at the Brass to replace it with something better…something more enjoyable."_

"_Yes, DiNozzo, that must be it," Gibbs muttered an agreement in such a way that Tony knew it was anything but._

"_You don't even lock your front door, Gibbs," Tony pointed out. "Maybe that's because you know no one can carry your boat out the front door, but some people, they want to protect what they have."_

_Gibbs looked down at the warm drink in his hand and slowly sipped at his coffee in an attempt to avoid eye contact. _

_He'd already had what he most valued taken from him and nothing else he had seemed to matter after that. Anything he had in the house that he had held onto for sentimental reasons were the exact type of things that a would-be thief would overlook; a patchwork quilt that Shannon had made when she was heavily pregnant with Kelly, a few drawings of a happy family that he'd received during his time on tour, a stuffed animal he had bought from the PX on base that Kelly had dragged with her through rain and shine, snapshots of their too short time together…_

"_Some people live in nice neighbourhoods, Tony," Sam was quick to point out having picked up on the Senior Agent's rapid descent into melancholy._

"_There was nothing _wrong_ with my neighbourhood," Tony sighed, as though this was a much repeated conversation between the two of them._

"_No, not at all," Sam agreed a little too genially. "I've always wanted to wake up and find a body on my doorstep, too."_

"_One time, Sam, it was _one_ time!" Tony groaned._

"_You'd only just moved there!"_

"_Exactly, and did it happen again? No!" Tony sat back in his seat, smug that he had made his point._

"_You're right Tony, the fact that they moved the dump site a couple of alleyways down changes everything…"_

_Gibbs watched them banter back and forth, shaking off past memories as he tried to focus on the present. He downed his coffee and signalled for another from a passing waitress._

_Eventually the time came to part ways._

_Sam took Gibbs aside as Tony disappeared to the toilet._

"_He's doing better than I expected, Gibbs," Sam confessed. "Thanks for looking out for him; I know he doesn't always make it easy, but he needs someone to keep him on a straight path and he needs to know he's got someone in his corner. I know I can count on you for that," Sam stated rather than asked. "If you're ever in doubt about his frame of mind, give me a call, because you can guarantee the kid won't, not with his stubborn pride."_

_Gibbs nodded and offered a firm handshake. He liked Jacobs, but he still worried about the hold the former Homicide Detective had over DiNozzo. He needed to be able to create his own partnership with Tony out from under the shadows of his former ones, the good and the bad, if he was going to try and hold onto the man for more than a two year period._

"_Sam, I told you this one was on me," Tony whined as he came back from the cashier only to find that Sam had already picked up the tab._

"_You can get the next one," Sam promised. He had purposefully ignored Tony's offer at paying as it gave his the chance to reiterate the fact that although they were both moving on to pastures new, this was not the end for their friendship._

"_The next one," Tony agreed with a ridiculously happy grin._

_The two men, knowing it wasn't a final goodbye, gave each other a quick hug in typical male fashion, with one arm hung loosely around the neck while the other gave a solid thump on the back before parting._

"_See you soon, Sam," Tony waved as he practically danced to his car, excited to finally have her in his grasp again._

"_See you soon, kid," Sam agreed, giving Gibbs another perfunctory nod as he waved them both off into the night._

The drive back had been quiet without DiNozzo sitting next to him, fiddling with the radio dials and the constant fidgeting and relentless energy that seemed to follow the man everywhere. Despite the digs that had been directed at his driving, the Senior Agent noticed that DiNozzo did not have any difficulty keeping up, and it was not all down to the powerful engine he was behind.

The secure, off-street parking gave Tony some peace of mind as it offered his most prized possession that little bit more security. It wasn't his dream car and if money had been no issue then he would probably have gone for something even more fast and flashy, but he had put a lot of years into earning the money for his car and the vehicle itself acted as a tangible piece of evidence as to that fact.

Some might think it shallow and rather ridiculous that he got more sentimental about a car than any of his other possessions, some of which were family heirlooms, passed down through the generations. But his car had been a constant in his life since his last year of college, and it had been with him when all other relationships had failed; he had thought his job would be a constant in his life, but in the end, the car had been the only thing that had survived the years of turmoil that followed his graduation from the Academy.

He'd invited Gibbs into his flat; it was still rather bare but he figured he at least owed the man some drink for driving him up to Baltimore

"That the Ramirez file?" Gibbs asked as he caught sight of a rather tattered looking bunch of papers, something he was all too familiar with as he thought of his own ratty looking cold-case files, some of which had found a depressingly permanent home in his desk drawer back in the bullpen.

"Yeah, just thought I'd give it another glance over, see if I missed anything the first time," Tony shrugged, aware that he'd given the file a thorough going over the first five times he read it.

Gibbs knew that NCIS were not all too happy with files being removed from the building, but it happened often enough and Gibbs himself had managed several breakthroughs re-reading cold-cases in the comfort of his dimly lit basement with a jar of bourbon by his side and the smell of sawdust in the air; sometimes a change of scenery and a more relaxed atmosphere could make all the difference.

"We'll order in some Chinese and then we'll go over it together

"You're not going to tell me that I'm wasting my time?" Tony half asked; he already suspected Gibbs' answer but he was too used to being derided for his determination to see every case through to the end no matter how unrealistic the ideal was. Sam had encouraged him in his pursuit of justice but he had also been there to help when frustration with dead ends became too much to handle. He had never heard an _'I told you so'_ from the man and he knew that was a phrase he would not hear from Gibbs.

"For a Marine? Never," Gibbs said, making sure to look the younger man in the eyes and allow him to see the sincerity in his usually stoic expression. He wanted Tony to recognize the fact that he was talking about more than just a missing Marine. He wanted Tony to understand that while Gibbs knew perfectly well that Tony could goof off with the best of them, he still trusted that the younger man would get the job done. Most of all, he wanted Tony to know that Gibbs trusted him and his instincts.

"Good to know," Tony replied uneasily. He wasn't entirely sure he got the gist of what the older man had being trying to convey but he had a pretty good idea; he only hoped that he wouldn't screw that faith up!

* * *

><p>Tony had spent his morning wading through all sorts of bureaucratic crap before he felt the distinct need for a bit of caffeine and sugar to help him pass HR's distant finish line.<p>

There was a small kitchen of sorts just off the main bullpen, armed with a kettle, a percolator on a never-ending cycle, a small fridge that was usually crammed with sandwiches and a couple of vending machines. The coffee machine was dreadful and Tony had learnt early on that it was always safer to go out for coffee, but time did not always afford that opportunity. However, the vending machines came loaded up with all sorts of sugary goodness that offered the quick hit that was sometimes needed to get over the final hurdle.

"Well, well, look who's joining us simple agents in the kitchen," came a snide voice from the doorway as Tony was slotting in the necessary change for a chocolate bar. "I'd have thought you'd be going to a coffee shop with Gibbs, or maybe to a restaurant with Pacci. Of course, most agents don't need a minder."

"Nice to see you too, Rotherstone," Tony rolled his eyes.

The Agent had been his fiercest critic yet and certainly the most vocal. Tony had heard that Rotherstone had been one of those hoping for a spot on Team Gibbs, but he had also heard through the scuttlebutt that the Agent had several complaints in his file for overly aggressive behaviour, towards both his suspects and his colleagues.

Even Adnams thought that the man should be removed from the field!

"What are you even doing here?" Rotherstone asked sourly. "Everyone knows you'll be gone in two years anyway; I'm guessing people must start to learn how full of crap you are by then."

Tony turned round to face him, his sugary treat forgotten.

"Two years? Ha! You'll screw this up within two months," Rotherstone spat. "Maybe you'll hold out for longer but I doubt it will be long before Gibbs realises what a mistake he made in hiring an incompetent fuck-up like you!

"You're nothing but some rich kid playing at being cop and everyone knows that's all you are, DiNozzo; soon, so will Gibbs. When push comes to shove you'll do what you have to do to help yourself, and not the Navy personnel you're supposed to be serving. Gibbs needs good, solid agents on his team, who understand the Navy and the people NCIS deals with; what good is someone like you to him?"

Tony said nothing.

What could he say?

He knew that Rotherstone was full of all sorts of crap, especially with the usual _'rich kid'_ rhetoric being thrown in his face. He hadn't been a rich kid since the age of twelve when his father has disinherited him and shipped him off to Rhode Island Military Academy without so much as a wave goodbye.

Every penny he had in his bank account he had earned.

However, Rotherstone had hit upon a sore point. Tony knew that he was a pretty good cop, but he still didn't understand what it was about him that made Gibbs think _he_ would be a good member of his team.

He knew that Gibbs had high standards, not least because the man had told him that himself, but ever since that day he first arrived at FLETC and found that everyone around him had all sorts of academic based degrees he had felt a little out of his league. No matter which way he looked at it, his Phys. Ed. Major paled into insignificance next to the multitude of law degrees, and those trained in computer skills and criminal psychology.

He was used to the pace of life inside your average PD, where DNA results could take weeks to work their way back to you, where the paperwork always seemed to take over the field work, where you worked with more faces than you could name day in and day out, where the Captain was just as likely to screw up and where the Chief of Police could call you into his office for a favour one day and a fierce reprimand the next.

Life at NCIS seemed to be in the fast lane.

Abby got results at a speed that would be impossible elsewhere, and Gibbs seems to have sequestered her as his very own lab tech, seemingly refusing to go elsewhere for his forensic answers.

Whether it was Gibbs' own approach or one fostered by NCIS in general, there seemed to be less emphasis on paperwork, although there was still more than Tony would have liked. Perhaps this had nothing more to do with than the fact that fewer cases crossed their desks than he had faced back in Baltimore and Philadelphia, perhaps there was more importance placed on results in the field, or, more simply, that they were better funded and better organised.

The faces he had worked with inside NCIS were already familiar and there seemed to be very little change. He also imagined that over time he would become familiar with the Metro DC regulars, especially since Gibbs seemed to want to have nothing to do with them. There was also, of course, Fornell and his FBI cronies. A lot of faces, but on the whole there did not seem to be the constant mishmash that he had faced back in the PD, where a multitude of different precincts, agencies, Federal LEOs and State Police crossed paths every day.

And as far as chain of command went, there was seemingly very little interaction there. It seemed as though Tony would deal with Gibbs and Gibbs would deal with everyone else. Apart from a few words from the Director, Tony had not seen him since and he had not noticed all that many _other_ people headed towards the man's office either. Like the military, chain of command inside NCIS seemed to be fiercely regimented.

So all in all, despite everything that he had already gone through with Gibbs both in DC and back in Baltimore, he was feeling more than a little out of his depth and he was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Rotherstone merely reiterated something that Tony had already been wondering.

"DiNozzo, any reason those forms still need to be filled out?" Gibbs said as he leaned in the doorway with his arms crossed firmly before him, pointedly ignoring the other Agent in the room.

Tony just about had a heart attack, not at all expecting Gibbs to have been nearby and hoping against hope that the man hadn't heard the latest discourse on his various character flaws.

"Just getting some sugar, Boss," Tony answered quickly, using the title _'Boss'_ specifically because it was the only way he could make a little dig at Rotherstone without revealing anything to a (hopefully) oblivious Gibbs. He got his chocolate bar and headed out of the room quickly without another word.

Consequently, he missed the fierce glare Gibbs directed towards Rotherstone and the way the younger Agent physically cowered under it.

* * *

><p>"He didn't even argue back, Duck, he just stood there and took it all without a word!" Gibbs vented. He had thought that the inter-office bullshit that had been directed at DiNozzo since he arrived had died down after the younger man had gone above and beyond proving himself capable. His frustration that an idiot like Rotherstone may just undo all his work in building up DiNozzo's confidence in his new surroundings was incalculable.<p>

"I imagine he is still testing the waters, Jethro," Ducky patiently surmised. "Young Anthony does not strike me as the sort of man who would take anything unwarranted lying down; however, he is still unsure of his inter-office allies and is rightfully cautious about launching into any defensive moves that may well see him unseated before he has truly acclimatised himself to this new office atmosphere."

"How is he ever going to acclimatise himself if every idiot with an opinion winds him up and leaves him with no way to wind down?" Gibbs demanded.

"So _find_ a way to wind him down," Ducky stated plainly.

"And just how in the hell am I supposed to do that?" Gibbs snapped at his friend, his frustration getting the better of him.

"What do _you_ do to unwind?" Ducky asked, pointedly ignoring the aggressive tone.

"He's not me!" Gibbs had had enough of the thinly veiled comparisons his old friend had been making. He liked Tony and expected great things of him, but he couldn't see any similarities; the younger man's tendency to overshare, his need for attention and the complete set of masks that covered everything in between seemed to differ greatly from his own more reluctant approach to socialising and his no-bullshit, straight-to-the-point attitude.

"I never said he was," Ducky said, truthfully. He had been very careful not to say it outright but he knew that even Jethro, who could be ridiculously obtuse when it came to mysteries of a personal nature rather than of a criminal one, would pick up on the undertones.

He suspected that young Anthony was far more concerned with Gibbs' own views rather than those of his fellow colleagues; although there was no doubt in the Doctor's mind that the seemingly never-ending stream of misgivings would be having a detrimental impact.

He knew that much of the gossip had died down after Anthony had successfully proven himself during the gun-smuggling case, but he also knew that there were one or two holdouts who were bitter at the fact that Gibbs had seemingly lost interest in finding anyone else for his team now that he had Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo.

"Jethro, you're no stranger to the various stresses this job can bring about," Ducky calmly explained. "You are in a much better position that I am to understand exactly what it is he needs right now."

Even though the M.E. had his doubts about the Senior Agent's social prowess, he believed that Gibbs would be the only one to get through to Tony if the younger man's doubts had well and truly taken a hold of him.

Gibbs didn't say a word.

When he was pissed at the world, which was more often than not, he would hide himself away in his basement with a good glass of bourbon and work out his stress and frustration by losing himself in the rhythmic motion of sanding his boat, or in the gentle give of the plane over his latest plank for the hull.

He wasn't sure what really worked for Tony; they had tried the range and that had been ok, and he didn't think that DiNozzo was yet fit enough for any work in the ring down in the NCIS gym. However, he wanted to get Tony's mind off all work related issues and give his insecurities a risk; if he gave him target after target to aim for then Tony might suspect that Gibbs too had his doubts.

Maybe he could allow the man to share in one of his own methods until Gibbs was better versed in DiNozzo's quirks.

"I'm going to see the Director," Gibbs nodded goodbye to Ducky, noticing but ignoring the look of triumph that flashed in the older man's eyes.

* * *

><p>"Agent Blackadder?" Tony asked, his surprise at her presence clear.<p>

"Hello Detective DiNozzo," she greeted him with a smile that seemed a little forced as she dumped her belongings on her usual desk.

"Ah, actually it's Agent now," Tony admitted rather sheepishly; he was still trying to get used to the difference. Of course, while his job title made him sound more official, he was already beginning to understand that NCIS was not a name that many held as being synonymous with law enforcement; giving a brief description of the Agency before conducting every interview would get really old really quickly!

"Oh?" this time it was Blackadder's turn to be surprised.

"Yeah, it all happened a lot quicker than I was expecting," Tony could understand her shock as he was still trying to take it all in as well.

Viv didn't know what to say; the man in front of her had been nothing if not dedicated to the job back in Baltimore and between the local LEO's and NCIS they had got the results they needed. However, she couldn't say that she felt entirely at ease with the fact that Agent _'second B for bastard' _Gibbs himself had chosen to add DiNozzo to their little motley crew; she dreaded learning what exactly it was about the former cop that drew her irritable and demanding boss' attention.

She was glad that Nixon was gone, having found the young man too brash and unable to think on his feet, and she was also glad not to be facing the wrath of Gibbs by herself, but DiNozzo was the great unknown.

She missed the predictability of the FBI and her last team had been small but comfortable with one another; life with Team Gibbs could be anything but predictable despite his military background and his regimented upbringing in the Corps.

The man's temper could be ignited at the drop of a hat or it could simmer away in the background. His gut could lead them to a killer, but it also seemed to bring them into contact with at least three different authority figures destined to find out about that second _'B'_. He didn't seem to give a crap about his team most of the time, with his demeaning reaming out in full view of the bullpen and his seemingly endless glares, and then the man would risk his all to pull you from the fire, sometimes quite literally.

She had a lot of respect for Gibbs but that didn't mean she liked working with him.

And now she had DiNozzo to contend with, who, if possible, seemed even more contrary than Gibbs.

"Where is Gibbs, anyway?" Viv asked.

"He went up to the Director's office about twenty minutes ago," Tony informed her, slight apprehension in his voice. "I hope Morrow hasn't changed his mind." Gibbs had stalked past him with nothing more than a quick and quiet _'You, my house tonight; I've got a boat needs sanding and you've got two spare hands'_ before disappearing up the stairs and heading towards the Director's office. He wondered if Gibbs was fighting a losing battle on his part against the never ending list of his deficiencies as listed by men like Rotherstone.

Before Viv had a chance to ask for an explanation she heard a voice calling her from above; she looked to see her Team Leader making his way down the stairs.

"Blackadder, you back with NCIS now, or are you running off back to that circus in the Hoover Building?" Gibbs asked as he dumped a few forms off on Tony's desk.

"No, I'm back, Gibbs," Viv stated quickly, eager to avoid any diatribes on the failings of her former employers.

"Good," Gibbs said as he stalked to his desk before picking up a stack of files and dumping them unceremoniously on her desk. "Cold cases," he confirmed after catching the brief look of dread that crossed her face. "DiNozzo, you've got a long weekend off; I suggest you catch up on sleep and get some damn furniture for that apartment of yours. The boat isn't going anywhere so no rush, but bring beer," he ordered before heading up the stairs to MTAC without another word.

Tony looked after him and the only thing that stopped Viv spitting out some vicious tirade about the unfairness of it all in his direction was the total look of shock and confusion on his face; clearly the newest member of Team Gibbs had been expecting that almost as much as she had.

* * *

><p>"So I get that you're not exactly going after Mr. Popularity at NCIS but do you really need to get your only other team member pissed at <em>me<em>, too? You think Rotherstone needs any more members for my enthusiastic cheer team?" Tony asked as he watched Gibbs wipe clean a jar that had mere seconds ago contained nails, before filling it with a small amount of bourbon and handing it over to the Junior Agent.

"Rotherstone is an incompetent halfwit who wouldn't know a murder suspect if the guy came up to him covered in blood holding a signed confession. I wouldn't trust his judgement on anything," Gibbs said his disdain for the Agent dripping from every word.

Tony agreed silently that Rotherstone _did_ seem a little oblivious to the obvious but he figured he hadn't yet earned the right to comment.

"As for Blackadder, she needs to learn where her loyalties lie," Gibbs shrugged; he was completely unrepentant about leaving Blackadder alone to deal with the paperwork that afternoon. His team were not on rotation that weekend and they wouldn't be working any new cases until Tony's final courses at FLETC ended.

"If she wants to be an FBI Agent, then she should quit NCIS. I'm not here to offer her work experience, I'm here to do a job and I need a team I can rely on to do that job; I can't rely upon her if she's not even in the same damn building."

Tony nodded. He had thought it odd at how Blackadder had spent so much time over at the Hoover Building, even if an old case _had_ blown open.

That afternoon, Blackadder had not seemed all that happy to be back within the bosom of her own Agency. Tony could understand that initial hesitancy, after all, he had worked in more than a few places where he had been made to feel less than welcome, but letting that hesitancy take over could start all sorts of trouble for yourself and for your team.

"You weren't being serious were you, about your boat I mean?" Tony asked as he looked gingerly towards the wooden structure as though it was going to reach out and strike him. He had tried many different activities throughout his life, but never woodwork and he dreaded to think about just how much damage he could do with a little sandpaper and a lot of ignorance.

"Have you known me to lie to you yet, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked, an expectant eyebrow raised as he looked up from where he was sanding down the latest joint.

"Well, no, but it's just even though your boat is never going to leave your basement I don't want to be the one to screw it up for you, and I'm pretty sure I'm not exactly carpenter material," Tony explained hurriedly.

"DiNozzo, do you have any idea how long you'd have to be sanding in one spot before you compromised the strength of the structure? I'm pretty sure you'll figure it out," Gibbs offered holding back a sigh at the normally enthusiastic man's look of wariness.

"If you're sure," Tony offered reluctantly, still clutching his jar of bourbon and not even attempting to make a move towards the boat.

Gibbs didn't hold back a sigh as he stood up, headed over towards his stubborn Agent and none too gently slapped a piece of sandpaper in his palm.

"DiNozzo," Gibbs said, waiting for the younger man's eyes to meet his own. "You'll be _fine_, DiNozzo; you'll _do_ fine," he half stated, half ordered.

Tony knew instinctively that he was not just talking about his newly acquired carpentry demands. He had thought that Gibbs must have overheard some of the earlier comments in the bullpen, but nothing had been said so he assumed he had been wrong.

Now he knew otherwise.

Gibbs' confidence in him sent his morale soaring, but it also scared the crap out of him; there was no way to disappoint someone who expected nothing from you. His father had told him that he would end up in the gutter, and at twelve years old those words had stayed with him; as he moved on from one precinct to another he had begun to believe in those cruel words.

It had taken Sam a great deal of time and effort to change his mind.

Their rapport and their faith in each other had built up over time, and they had learnt of each other's strengths and weaknesses, their traits and their intentions.

Gibbs' confidence seemed to have been placed in him before he was even looking for it; the man had made it clear that he saw something in Tony that was worth holding onto, but Tony was at a loss as to what that might be.

Most of the other agents at NCIS had quietened down in their remarks since he had received his Special Agent status and he hadn't really expected to feel affected by the remainder, but the truth was he had already started to think about making a home for himself in DC and on Team Gibbs; he was tired of moving on every few years and never having a home-base, and he wanted to be able to settle down. To know that so few people expected him to succeed in that seemingly simple venture had a greater impact on him than he was expecting after the hazing he had received in so many other departments.

He didn't want Gibbs to hear such comments and question their validity, but he was beginning to suspect that the older man was not so easily swayed by the scuttlebutt.

He sat up straighter as he told himself that Gibbs had chosen him.

Out of all the eager beavers that had milled around his desk for days, hoping to be invited onto his illustrious team, Gibbs had instead driven to Baltimore and picked a Homicide Detective who had been shot in the line of duty; it was hardly the most compelling set of circumstances to make an acquisition, but one that Gibbs had made nonetheless.

He had some time to figure out just what it was that Gibbs saw in him and expected from him, but the one thing that he _did_ already know (and the one thing that he found to be the most important) was that his new boss expected him to do his job and to do it to the best of his abilities; _that_ was something he knew he could do without any problems.

It would take some time before he would be fully settled at NCIS but he had no doubt that Abby and Ducky would do their best to make him feel welcomed and part of the group, and if Gibbs' words were not always so encouraging, his actions so far had been.

The saying _'actions speak louder than words'_ had a lot of truth behind it, and so far Gibbs had invited Tony into his home when he had nowhere else to go, he had taken care of finding a suitable physiotherapist, he had found an outlet for Tony's pent up frustrations and irritations, he continued to ignore the wildfire of the scuttlebutt that had been anything but complimentary, he had faced off with the Director without a mention of what the possible consequences were for himself and he had even thrown himself in front of a bullet with Tony's name on it.

He might not know Gibbs yet like he did Sam, but he was already aware of one of the most important things a LEO needed to know; Gibbs had his six, unequivocally.

The man had his flaws, but he was relatively straightforward and Tony knew that while there would undoubtedly be problems to be found working alongside the demanding man, they made an excellent team and he could learn a lot from the Senior Agent.

There were fifty rules after all.

"You'll do fine, DiNozzo," the Senior Agent repeated firmly, making sure the younger man had no doubt about the absolute faith Gibbs had in his newest team member.

"Yeah, Boss, I know," Tony smiled a genuine smile before downing his bourbon and standing up, sandpaper in hand, before he turned to Gibbs and grinned, "I can't promise the same for your boat."

* * *

><p><em><strong>And there we go…another story has reached the end. Please review and let me know what you think – constructive criticism is always welcome. If you spot any errors, please let me know – I do my best to catch them, but some will undoubtedly slip through.<strong>_

_**For those that need them…**_

_**HR – Human Resources – a Department in many businesses that is usually full of perfectly lovely people, but unfortunately they always come armed with a million and one forms that need to be filled in.**_

_**PX – Postal Exchange – a sort of mini department store on base or in an area of operation where it is (usually) run out of a cargo container on site where soldiers can pick up anything from batteries to adult diapers.**_

_**LEOs – Law Enforcement Officers/Officials.**_

_**Thank you once again to everyone who has taken the time to read and review. Some of you have been with me since 'Quiet Anger' and have really helped with my confidence in writing FF and your constructive criticism has been useful all round. **_

_**Many thanks to you all!**_


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